


This Fortress (Around Your Heart)

by allimarie_xf



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Season/Series 07, Angst, Canon Divergent, Dark, Eventual Smut, F/M, and definitely eventual happiness, but Arrow is a dark show so, but definitely olicity, dark like that basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-07-13 09:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16014854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allimarie_xf/pseuds/allimarie_xf
Summary: And if I've built this fortress around your heart,Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire,Then let me build a bridge, for I cannot fill the chasmAnd let me set the battlements on fire.The attack had done more than triggered Felicity’s instinct to survive; it had reminded her ofwho she was. She was someone who would never sit on the sidelines when she could be out front making a difference.~~Season 7 speculation with rebels, heroes, and angst, oh my!~~





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first scene of chapter 1 includes some mild psychological torture (in the form of female sexual objectification) for Oliver. I don’t think it’s too bad, but if you’re sensitive to that sort of thing, just scroll to the first break.
> 
> I am honestly so excited about this story. I’ve mostly resisted speculating about season 7 because everything is just so broken it hurts to think about it. But then those 7x01 promo pics came out and suddenly I couldn’t shut up the little voice in my head, and before I knew it I had this whole story plotted out in scenes and chapters and I just cannot wait to share it with you!
> 
> Be warned: there is a lot of angst ahead, but those of you who know me know that I’m actually a soft, smooshy shipper so worry not. :D
> 
> Also, please please please let me know what you think! I have this tightly plotted out and several chapters finished already, but it's going to be much much longer than anything I've ever done, and I know I am going to need lots of encouragement. The more encouragement I get, the more motivated I will be xP

Before he could make out the words coming from the other side of the wall, Oliver knew by the pitch of his voice that Danny Brickwell was planning to taunt him.

It wouldn’t be the first torture he’d endured today, but Oliver knew from bitter experience that it would be far worse than the beating he’d taken when he’d been jumped in the cafeteria at lunch.

“Mr. Mayor, I have a newspaper here, and I think you might be interested in the contents.” Brick’s voice took on a sing-songy tone: “‘ _Inside Star City’s Most Mysterious Marriage: Who is Felicity Smoak? It seems these days everyone has burning questions for the wife of the former mayor, like whether or not she knew her husband was a vigilante, and if she aided him in his lawless crusade. But we want to know more about the woman herself: who was Felicity Smoak before she was Mrs. Green Arrow?_ ’ You know, Mr. Mayor, you should really check out this article for yourself. It’s got _pictures_. Or, hmm. Is it former wife, now? I mean, you are locked up for life, and word is she hasn’t come to see you even once. But who can blame her? With an ass like that, she’s probably got ‘em lined up around the block. Fully-functional and available to serve her, you know? Especially after this spread in the _Star City Gazette_.”

Oliver clenched his fists and focused on his breathing. In. Out. Nothing they said made a difference. They were locked up in here just like he was. They couldn’t touch her.

“Sampson, you seen this?”

“I’m lookin’ at it now, Brick. And I like what I’m seeing. If I’da known women like that go for guys in suits, I maybe I would have gone to business school after all.”

Brickwell laughed harshly. “But that’s exactly what everybody’s wanting to know, my friend. Did she fall for Oliver Queen, or did she fall for the Green Arrow?” He paused. “We got the inside scoop sitting right here. Could call the _Gazette_ and settle it for them, maybe get quoted in the paper. Which was it, Mr. Mayor?”

He waited briefly but of course Oliver remained silent, breathing, trying to tune out their voices. In. Out.

Unconcerned, Brickwell continued his musing. “For all we know, she has a thing for bad boys. Maybe working with the vigilante brought out her wild side. It says in here she started as a nobody at Mr. Queen’s company, and our boy Oliver here picked her out and made her his _assistant_.” He paused, letting the word accrue layers of meaning. “I gotta give it to you, Mr. Mayor. I may not like you, but I can appreciate that you’ve got a real eye for...talent. They have a picture here of your girl from way back, mousy as anything and dressed like my gran. Most guys wouldn’t look at her twice. But you scooped her right up, didn’t you? Polished her up. Taught her how to dress, teased out her _assets_.”

Fists clenched. Breathing in. Breathing out.

“Didn’t even take a year, judging by the date on this other photo. You really made her shine. Still, I gotta say. She’s attractive and all, I'd definitely fuck her, but she’s not hot enough to marry, I wouldn’t think. Not wife material based on looks alone. And we all know you like yourself a tall, leggy brunette, Mr. Mayor. It’s enough to make me wonder: what other kind of talents does she have?”

Oliver felt himself go cold as the air seemed to leave his body. Nothing mattered. Nothing they said mattered. They were thugs.

Brick was still speaking. “What does she have to offer that would make her worth keeping around? I’m looking here at this picture, and I think I have a guess. Just look at those lips. I bet that mouth is a whole other level of talent, am I right? Soft, luscious pink lips. I bet she can swallow a whole dick with that mouth. Makes me hard just thinking about it. Thinking about your wife, Mr. Mayor, with her soft lips wrapped around my dick. Sounds like a good way to spend the evening. Sampson, don’t you agree?”

“Oh yeah, Brick. They’ve been putting out pictures of Felicity Smoak every day for months, and I have gotten a _lot_ of mileage out of those lips and that ass. I wonder what it’s going to be tonight? I think last night I had her on her knees in front of me, looking up at me with those glasses on. Hey, Green Arrow, do you prefer her with the glasses on or without them? Me, I think I prefer her with them. That naughty teacher look, you know? Makes it extra sweet when she’s on her knees.”

Oliver’s fingernails were digging into his palms, and he had abandoned efforts to calm his erratic breathing. He tried to think about the physical pain from being jumped by four prisoners earlier that day. The feeling of having his windpipe crushed, the shock of a knee to the kidney. Anything to block out their words.

Brick was still speaking. “I know what you mean. It’s those goody-goody ones with the glasses that are always really kinky in the sack. Care to weigh in, Mr. Mayor? Your thoughts would be really helpful here. I’m assuming you know all about Felicity Smoak’s kinks.”

No. No. No. No.

“I bet you think about them all the time. Wrapping your hand around your dick as you imagine yourself buried in that ass, just like the rest of us. Too bad you’re not gonna fuck her any sooner than the rest of us, either. It must be torture, right? Knowing you had it so good. You were the mayor, everyone looked up to you, everyone wanted to be you, but best of all, you could fuck that tight ass any time you wanted, but what did you do instead? Like a fool, you dressed up in tights and went out like Robin Hood. Fucked your life right up, didn’t you? And now all you got for company is me and Sampson, and no one to suck your dick, except maybe you could ride with Bubbles if you ask real nice. Maybe he’ll even let you fuck him in the ass, though I doubt anything could compare to the tight, round caboose on your girl.”

Oliver was silent. His palms were bleeding, his breathing was shallow, and as much as he could withstand torture, he couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down his face.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Felicity pushed through the front door of the safe-house, shaking rainwater off her umbrella. “William?” She flinched at the slightly panicked tone of voice that had somehow become habitual. “You home?” She turned around and began locking the complicated series of bolts on the front door.

“Yeah, I’m in here, Felicity!”

At the sound of his voice, something inside her relaxed. She stepped further into the little house, setting a bag of fast food on the counter and picking up her tablet to activate the security measures she’d installed around the perimeter of the property. “Yasuko’s Teriyaki!”

“Coming!”

She pulled several containers out the paper bag before starting up her system of computers that took up most of the kitchen table. William appeared at her shoulder and she whirled on the spot and grabbed him in a tight hug.

“Okay, okay.” But he didn’t really mind, and Felicity knew it.

“How was school? Did Mrs. Marshall give a pop quiz?” She turned back to her computers.

“Yup.”

“Ugh.” She was listening, but she was also concentrating on defining parameters on her newest search.

“Felicity?

“Hummm?”

“You want me to maybe get some plates and silverware, set the table?”

Something in his hesitant tone made her look up. “Oh William, it’s just us. There’s no need for -” she broke off when his face fell. She felt like she’d been punched in the stomach “Right. I mean, yeah, it’s always just us, but that doesn’t mean we have to live like _animals_.” She pressed out a laugh so he would hear her words as a casual joke, and not as a desperate attempt to cover up her feelings of inadequacy. She was just not the parent he deserved. Oliver turned every meal into a gourmet experience, while here she was on a first-name basis with every fast-food joint within a ten-mile radius. But Oliver was not here, because Oliver had made a decision and the rest of them had to live with it. Taking a deep breath, she pushed Oliver out of her mind so she could be present for her step-son. “Well hey, at least it’s not leftover diner food, right?”

William smiled back as he slid a plate in front of her. “I got an A-.”

Felicity scrunched her nose at him. Then caught herself and unscrunched it with widened eyes. “An A- is great! Fantastic! Especially in World History, I mean yuck. Not my favorite subject.”

William laughed, letting her off the hook. “No, it was stupid. It should have been an A. There was this dumb trick question.”

“Yeah, well I thought - I mean, you studied your butt off on that chapter, that’s all I’m saying.” She frowned again. Obviously William was brilliant, and she got a little defensive when teachers failed to recognize it.

“So, how was work?”

“Work…. That is not work. It is a soul-crushing exercise in misery that doesn’t even offer health and dental.” She smiled at the remembered words, despite herself. They made her think of Oliver’s nervous, happy smile, and she felt something twist inside her. William’s sustained silence jerked her out of the memory. He was looking at her in bewilderment and a little concern. “Haha, sorry! Inside...joke. Work was fine. Except for the part where I have to actually talk to people.” Felicity had found that William was too emotionally intuitive for her to convincingly lie to him, which was a good thing, really, because the prospect of putting on a brave face in the wake of their situation was really more than she could handle. So she let him in, mostly, though she tried her hardest to let humor outweigh bitterness whenever possible. And they had quickly become much closer because of her willingness to be honest with him.

“Too bad you can’t make a program to take their orders for them.”

Felicity considered. “Well, I probably could. But that wouldn’t really eliminate the need to talk to them, unless I also programmed, like, a robot to then bring them their orders. Which would be kinda cool, except then I wouldn’t really have a job, so I’d just have to find another job, and I’d probably have to talk to people there.” She gave him a dissatisfied look. “I don’t think there’s a way I can program my way out of it.”

William shot her an affectionate look that went straight to her heart, and not just because it reminded her so much of Oliver. “I think you could figure something out, if you really needed to.”

Felicity looked down at her plate to hide the sudden wetness in her eyes. She reached out and rumpled his hair. “Eat your chicken, kiddo.”

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Hours after William had gone to bed, Felicity was deeply engrossed in her second job. Her real work: searching for Ricardo Diaz, and doing whatever she could to stop his work in Star City.

Because despite the sacrifice Oliver had made, Ricardo Diaz was still alive and free and very much operating within Star City. And Star City was suffering. It wasn’t just a dip in the local economy, or an uptick crime, or a pervasive feeling of low morale, though those were all real and present problems. Nor was it only the quasi-martial law that had become necessary in order to fill the power vacuum left behind once Diaz’s accomplices had been arrested, though the temporary municipal government did inspire considerable paranoia. It wasn’t even the fact that those who could afford to leave the city were doing so in droves. It was that people were disappearing, from all walks of life. And no one, not even the FBI, could seem to stop it. Or even explain it.

But it wasn’t only the FBI who was looking into crime around the city. A group calling themselves “The Outlaws” had arisen in the wake of Oliver’s arrest, and, as their name suggested, they were seeking justice outside of the law.

It turned out that, as much as the people of Star City hated to be made to look like fools by having elected a vigilante as mayor, they hated surrendering their city to criminals even more. So while public opinion of Oliver remained starkly divided, he had some extreme admirers among his fans, and The Outlaws practically revered him. It really wasn’t healthy, but Felicity figured she was hardly in a position to judge anyone else’s obsession with Oliver Queen.

So she had been helping them. Quietly, in small ways. Hacking into their system, improving their tools, refining their searches. Sometimes helping them along by pointing them in the right direction, but more often than not by simply doing their work for them, better, faster. She had personally prevented two abductions, at least one attempted assassination, and countless instances of cyber crime. And better, she was helping them establish connections between the crimes. By analyzing the data they’d been compiling over the past 5 months, she already had a good idea of which crimes were likely to be connected to Diaz, and which were random.

She was also learning about some disturbing new tricks Diaz seemed to have picked up in the past few months. But she hadn’t managed to locate him. Not yet.

The harsh vibration of her phone against the kitchen table shook Felicity out of her zone. She looked at the display and shut off the alarm she had set for 2:30 AM. Time for bed.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

The next morning, Felicity was cleaning up the kitchen after bringing William to school. She had work at noon, but before then she had a few hours to herself.

Normally she tried to keep her brain occupied on immediate things: being present for William, preventing crime in Star City, avoiding awkward moments at the diner, like spilling coffee on patrons or accidentally insulting them in some way. The less time she gave herself to think, the less time she spent in dark spirals of anger, panic, and sorrow.

But today, she gave in to the ever-present desire to just think about him. To remember the sound of his voice, the way he said her name. To remember the expression in his eyes when he looked at her. That look that was reserved for her alone, that was never absent regardless of whether he was happy, anxious, ecstatic, or hurt. It pained her, physically, to think about him, because every thought and memory was burdened with her anger and disappointment in him, but she did it gladly because more than anything she just she missed him. It was so rare that she allowed herself to really think about him, imagine him, that she even missed the idea of him. So she closed her eyes and remembered his lips: against her cheek, her forehead, her neck, under her jaw. Exhaling against her lips.

It was as she stood there lost in remembered kisses that several things happened at once: her tablet lit up next to her on the kitchen counter, and an alarm sounded from several speakers positioned around the house. She instantly knew her computers were contacting 911 with a pre-recorded distress call even as she heard the sound of shattering glass.

In the months since going underground, Felicity hadn’t completely reverted to her pre-Oliver hacktivist days. For one thing, her hair was pink, not black. For another, she had taken up self-defense training in earnest, at John’s insistence. During their Team Arrow days, he had always offered to train her, but she had never been more than a half-hearted student, mainly because she had more important things to concentrate on, and she never had any doubt that John and Oliver would both willingly and capably look after her in those rare instances when she was faced with a significant physical threat. But when she found herself the sole parent of an innocent, trusting, amazing kid like William, she realized she needed to be as prepared as possible on all fronts. And that meant being able to defend herself, and him, bodily if necessary.

So when the large, terrifying-looking dude came charging at her with a gun, Felicity was fairly certain from his approach that he didn’t want to kill her, just grab her and possibly knock her out. She used that to her advantage, moving toward him instead of away, grabbing the first thing that came to hand: her morning’s leftover coffee. In his surprise, she managed to knock the gun out of his hand.

Felicity found herself babbling as a way to fight through her panic. “I’ll have you know,” she dodged a punch and tried to squeeze past him out of the confines of the kitchen, “that I’ve already called 911 and if I don’t punch in a verification code -” the man grabbed her by the hair and clawed viciously at her head, trying to twist her into his grip. Screaming, she jabbed him with an elbow and stomped his instep, reaching for a heavy frying pan. “My friends in high places will be getting a prerecorded message that contains a lot of detailed information -” she had the frying pan, but he punched her right in the face, and the shock left her wide open. He immediately tackled her to the ground. She hit the floor hard, narrowly avoiding getting the wind knocked out of her. She kicked backwards with her feet and attempted to scramble away. “Not to mention the perimeter alarms that are set to go off any second now!” The large man was silent except for his heavy breathing and the occasional grunt, and Felicity felt the panic taking over as he grabbed her around the ankles and began to haul her back. She fought to crawl forward, not caring that she was scraping through shattered glass, not considering the futility of gaining a few feet of distance from him when he obviously outweighed her by 100 pounds or more. Her throat was raw but she kept shouting, and kicking, and somehow her feet managed to land a blow. In the sudden absence of restraint, instinct took over. She spun around, legs and thighs grinding through shards of glass, and hit him over the head with her frying pan. And then she hit him again to be sure.

The blood was pounding loudly in her ears, and distantly she heard her perimeter alarms blaring. The police would be here in less than a minute, probably, and she suddenly knew she didn’t want to be here when they arrived.

Within seconds of reaching her decision, she had initiated a data wipe protocol on her non-portable hardware, grabbed her and William’s emergency bags including all her portable tech, and was in her car on the way to pick up William. The little blue bungalow she drove away from contained not a single trace of data that would lead back to their real identities.


	2. Chapter 2

The white Toyota Corolla was parked on a residential side-street that bordered the Jr. High’s baseball diamond. Felicity sat inside, squinting impatiently across the field for signs of her step-son. At a red light on her way here, she had texted him their pre-arranged signal, so he should already be on his way here. He hadn’t texted her back, but that didn’t mean anything. They hadn’t discussed whether or not he was supposed to. He was fine. There were no sirens or police cars in sight. He had to be fine.

To distract herself, she pulled up her research on The Outlaws. She had the codename of their leader, “Little John,” and the geolocation of their Star City base. She entered it into the map application on her phone, but her fingers hovered indecisively over the “get directions” button.

She should go straight there. She’d hacked them months ago, had details on all their operations, knew their motivations were pure. They weren’t another Helix. But it wasn’t the question of their trustworthiness that made her hesitate.

She tapped the address field in the app again and typed in “Slabside Maximum Security Prison,” pressing the button for directions. She stared transfixed as it mapped a direct line between her and Oliver, as if the only thing separating them was that blue line connecting point A to point B. She took a deep, shaking breath.

Glancing out the window, she finally caught sight of William, sticking to the treeline like they had discussed. He’d be here in under 30 seconds. After that she still had at least 6 hours of driving before she had to make a final decision on their destination.

“Felicity!” He dragged open the car door with horror and fear on his face.

“Get in, get in! Are you okay?” She laid her hand on his knee as she pulled away from the curb, more to reassure herself than him.

“I’m fine! I asked to go to the bathroom and then I came straight here. Are you okay?” His tone suggested she wasn’t.

“They found us.” She pressed her lips into a thin line and blinked to keep her tears at bay. Now that she had William, the reality of the attack she had just survived began to hit her. She was bruised and bleeding, and she was pretty sure she had shards of glass embedded in her arms and legs. She took a shuddering breath. “But they didn’t find you, and that’s the most important thing.”

William was staring at her with his mouth hanging open. “What are we going to do?”

That was the question. Felicity knew the answer she wanted to give. She felt it with every beat of her heart, like a mantra. _Fight-back. Fight-back_. She had spent months denying her instincts: lying low, afraid for her and William’s safety, watching powerless as Star City fell further and further into chaos. She had done it because it was what Oliver wanted for his son, and she couldn’t deny him that. But after all that hiding, they had been found anyway, and the attack had done more than triggered her instinct to survive; it had reminded her of _who she was_. She was someone who would never sit on the sidelines when she could be out front making a difference. The fact that William needed her didn’t change that. If anything, it only gave her more reason to fight. But her conscience said she had to at least notify Oliver of her change of plans before going against his wishes. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, trying to block out the hopeful little voice suggesting that he might do more than give his blessing. Whispering that maybe she could convince him to come along and fight with her. But she couldn’t say any of that to William, not when Oliver hadn’t said yes. Not when she hadn’t even fully made up her mind that she was going to ask him. _Liar_.

She bit her lip. “I’m not sure yet. But we’re going to be safe.” She hoped.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Felicity glanced at William in the passenger seat beside her. His deep and even breathing reassured her that he really was asleep. John, having received her emergency distress notifications, had been texting her frantically for the past several hours, but she hadn’t wanted William to overhear the conversation she planned on having with him.

They’d been on the road for over 5 hours, and Felicity had easily fallen back into practiced countermeasures against being followed. When she was certain it was safe, she’d stopped at a gas station, refueling and giving her and William a moment to recharge. It was only then that she’d texted Dig a few lines: _We’re okay. I’ll call you when I can_.

She put her Bluetooth headphones into her ear, suddenly realizing that, even after having delayed this conversation, she really didn’t know what she was going to say.

He answered on the first ring. “Felicity! Tell me you’re okay.”

“John. We’re okay.” There was silence over the line as both of them struggled to find the words to begin to say all the things that needed to be said. “It’s good to hear your voice.” Felicity’s voice was thick with the tears of relief that had begun to fall as soon as she heard him speak. The most important things didn’t need words at all.

He sighed. “It’s good to hear your voice too, Felicity. We’ve missed you.” There was a heavy pause as they both considered all the people included in that _we_. “What happened? I thought we had you squared away in the safehouse?”

She expelled a short laugh. “Yeah, well, it turns out that’s a bit of a misnomer.” It wasn’t John’s fault, not at all, but she knew he felt the bitterness in her voice anyway, and she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

“Are you really okay? What happened?”

“They found me. Thankfully William was at school when they attacked. They didn’t touch him. He’s okay.” It felt good to say the words. It helped her know they were true. She turned her head to look at William’s peaceful face, seeking further reassurance.

But John heard the words she didn’t say. “But what about you, Felicity?” _Did they touch you_ , he didn’t ask.

Felicity took an audible, shuddering breath and prepared herself to recount the attack in as clinical terms as she could. “They broke in. I was at home. I only saw one guy, though it’s more than likely that there were others held up by our security measures. He - attacked me. He tried to grab me, I….” She took a breath. “I escaped. And William is okay.” She let the breath out.

John was silent as he digested Felicity’s words, knowing she was leaving a lot out. “I want you to come here.”

Felicity swallowed. “John. I’m going to see him.”

“Felicity, you can’t! We can’t risk you being seen! You need to come straight here so we can fix you up with a new identity. Every second you’re out there you’re at risk. Even having you in Star City is too dangerous. If you weren’t in serious need of _medical attention_ ,” he stressed the words, reminding her that he was already giving her a break by letting her omit the details of the attack, “I’d have you meet me at the new safehouse.”

Felicity heard his words, knew she should be angry at his assumption, but all she could feel was a hot flush of elation that started in the pit of her stomach and was rapidly traveling through her limbs until all the hair was standing up on her body. _I’m going to see him._  She had said the words. As soon as they were out of her mouth, she knew her mind was made up, that it had been made up from the moment she’d left the safehouse, and nothing John could say would dissuade her.

“I’m not going to another safehouse, John. I’m going to see him.” Hope and excitement blazed in her chest, obliterating all the sensible emotions like fear and discretion that had been standing guard over her heart for months.

“Felicity, what are you talking about? It’s not safe! Everyone in in the world knows your face, knows who you are. If you go anywhere near him you’ll be recognized.”

John’s words hit her like cold water. “I’m aware.” As much as she had tried to wall herself off from the media reaction to Oliver’s public confession, she had needed to keep up to date with any and all public mentions of her name, no matter how minor or unscrupulous. And she had learned just how few scruples some reporters had. She shook her head to clear it of the bitter reminder. “I have a plan, John. And I’m done letting other people fight my battles.”

John inhaled sharply. “Felicity, what are you saying? Look, I don’t doubt your skills - not for a minute - but you’re still just one person. A.R.G.U.S. can’t be involved, the team’s hands are tied, and you don’t have an army at your disposal.”

She paused for significance. “Maybe I don’t need an army. Maybe all I need is one person. If it’s the right person.”

John’s silence was so sudden and absolute that Felicity had to check her phone to make sure he hadn’t been disconnected. When she was sure he was still on the line she waited, letting him collect his arguments. Her mind was already made up, and his reasoning would break through her resolve like feathers broke through a brick wall.

But in the end, he said the only words that could have had any effect, because he knew her that well. “He won’t do it.”

Felicity fought against the infiltration of doubt. “He’ll do it for me.” But she felt a prickle of foreboding, fearing what would happen to her heart if she was wrong.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

“John!”

Before he even looked at her, Diggle was scouring the seedy hotel room for ways to improve its meager security. Felicity watched as he dragged a heavy chair in front of the door, positioned the rest of the furniture for maximum defense, and grabbed duct tape out of his bag so he could close the gaps between the curtains and the wall.

When at last he seemed satisfied, he turned toward her and Felicity felt safer than she had in almost half a year.

William rushed toward him, and John grabbed him up in an affectionate hug. “So good to see you, William. I missed you. How is it possible that you’ve grown a foot since I saw you last?” He met Felicity’s eyes across the room, and something in her heart healed as she watched two pieces of her fractured family come together at last. Everything about going into protective custody had felt wrong, and isolating herself and William from the people who made them whole had been the hardest thing of all.

William looked up at John, who was still considerably taller than him, despite there being some truth to Dig’s assessment. “What are we going to do? Felicity says we’re going to Star City, but she won’t tell me what the plan is.” Dig smiled down at the kid. Like his father, William was not one for small talk.

Felicity stood up and walked toward them. “That’s because _Felicity_ ,” she glared teasingly at her step-son, “is still working out the details of the plan. But it’s an excellent plan, which is all you really need to know.”

John looked at her skeptically over William’s head. They hadn’t come to anything resembling an agreement over the phone, except the decision to meet up here 20 miles outside of Slabside so he could look after them while Felicity went to have a talk with Oliver. John was still vehemently opposed to every part of her plan, but Felicity was one of the most stubborn people he knew, which was saying something. Still, he had arranged a new safehouse and identity documents just in case. He only hoped she would eventually see reason.

Felicity read John’s thoughts in his eyes, but she was tired of arguments that went nowhere. And she just missed him. She moved closer to him, her smile growing with every step.

“Felicity.” He enfolded her in his arms, and she let herself be held. It was only then that everything began to feel real.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Oliver startled at the sudden loud banging on the bars of his cell. “Inmate 4587! You have a visitor.”

Oliver sucked in a breath and tried to remember what day it was. Tuesday. John wasn’t due to visit for another 8 days. He sat up slowly, thinking through all the other names that made up his short visitor list. Aside from Jean Loring there was Thea. William. Lyla. Barry. Felicity. He shut his eyes against the mental echo of her name, knowing that of everyone, she was the only one who would never come. He had included her name not in hopes that one day she’d show up, but because he couldn’t bear the thought of excluding her from a list that included all of the most important people in his life.

As he got to his feet, he cleared his mind and erased all evidence of emotion from his face. He had a long walk through the prison in front of him, and his survival in this place was only as secure as the fortress he’d constructed around his heart.

 

* * * *

 

Felicity stood nervously in the visiting room, too unsettled to sit down in the chair facing the glass. She was suddenly struck with awareness of how she looked: cut up and bruised, still wearing yesterday’s lounge clothes that she’d been attacked in, with long pink hair that had helped conceal her identity. It occurred to her that it had been months since she’d even bothered to care about what she looked like, and that realization, more than anything, made her feel like a stranger to herself. She wondered if Oliver would even recognize her.

But then the door opened and she forgot herself completely. Oliver was there and there was nothing but Oliver.

She saw him before he saw her and in the space of that moment she took him in completely. His wounds, his new scars. His cropped hair and long beard and bleak expression. That the armor he wore was unfamiliar in shape didn't matter; nothing would ever prevent her from seeing the man underneath.

 

* * * *

 

Oliver walked into the visitation room having decided that Jean Loring must be the unexpected visitor. She didn’t come to see him often, but she did still sometimes drop by to discuss the terms of his incarceration. She was a good lawyer, and she remained more than a little miffed that he hadn’t consulted her before making his deal with the FBI. He shuffled into the small room and watched the guard unshackle his wrists, mentally bracing himself for Jean’s fiery temper.

When he turned around expecting to find his lawyer already seated in front of the glass, the first thing he noticed was that no one was sitting there at all. Odd. He shifted his gaze to behind the visitor’s chair, and he stopped breathing.

And everything stopped. Because he was looking into Felicity’s eyes and she was looking back at him and his entire body went cold with the shock of suddenly being alive again. His legs carried him forward to his chair before they gave out completely.

His face remained hard, guarded. Slabside had taught him to hide all emotion, most of all any of his feelings regarding Felicity. He wasn’t surprised to realize he’d learned that lesson so well he could effectively guard against her, too. But neither could he look away from her, even if he had wanted to. She looked terrible and more beautiful than anyone he had ever seen or could have imagined.

Without breaking their consuming gaze, he reached out and brought the telephone receiver to his ear, knowing nothing but that her words had always had the power to save him, from himself most of all. But instead of reaching for the phone, she reached out to touch the glass, and the futility of the gesture, more than anything, cut him deeply. He mirrored her action, tearing his eyes away from her face to watch his fingertips align with hers on the other side of the glass. So close, but so far.

He knew, distantly, that a hundred questions and concerns were lining up behind his lips. But he waited patiently in the timeless moment until she brought the receiver to her ear. “Oliver.” It was that familiar, intimate whisper that he had dreamed so many times over the last 5 months. The one that always cut through the noise and spoke directly to his heart, and again he found that it chipped away at his defenses.

He let her look at him, his face as hard as ever but knowing that she understood the hardness for a mask. Trusting that she knew that wherever Oliver Queen existed, he loved her. He lived for her. He wanted to tell her that if being on the inside had taught him one thing, it was that she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He wanted to tell her that he had been stupid not to spend every waking breath letting her know. But he wanted a lot of things, and the pane of glass between them that prevented him from holding her in his arms also reminded him that he didn’t deserve to hold her, that he never would again, and that if he wanted to hold on to his sanity, he couldn’t let himself feel those emotions.

Felicity regarded the firm lines of his mouth, the blankness in his eyes that made it seem as if he were looking at her from much farther away. And she realized that, maybe for the first time ever, his defenses were set against her particularly. Against his love for her. And she understood why, but she needed him to let her in.

“Oliver, no.” She pinned him with her gaze, begging him to meet her half way. She shook her head for emphasis. “Please.”

Something in his eyes shifted, and he stared mutely at her, looking trapped: cheeks hollow, eyebrows a thick straight line, his lipless mouth an unhappy triangle that expelled a helpless breath, signifying that he was on the edge of breaking.

It was a look she had a lot of experience with. It was a look that meant he knew he needed saving, and he knew she was the one who could save him, if only he could shape the words to ask her. It was a look that she had never walked away from, never denied, because his stupid face was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and all she ever wanted was to be the person that he needed. So it didn’t matter that she was angry with him, disappointed in him, that he’d kept her out of the loop again. It didn’t matter that he’d sacrificed himself for her without consulting her, it didn’t matter that he’d let himself be led away from her without offering her any comfort. Those were things to be dealt with later. Because when everything was stripped away, he was still sitting there looking at her like she held the key to his heart and if she could just find a way to insert it into the lock they could finally have everything.

So she opened her mouth and the only thing that would come out was the truth she had left unspoken for too long. “I love you. Oliver.” And she was trying not to cry because she needed him to see her as strong and capable, but she couldn’t stop the tears slipping out, nor the words that undermined her act. “I need you. More than anything, Oliver. Still. Always.”

She saw in his eyes, in the tiny nod of his head, that he was moved.

“Felicity.” He took a stuttering breath, swallowed heavily, and then Oliver was sitting in front of her, stripped of his protection and raw. His eyes held more pain than she had ever seen.

In an instant she was on her feet, pressing her hands and arms and body against the glass, trying to get as close to him as she could, and he was right there with her, trying to fit himself against her, trying to remember her touch.

“I love you,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against the glass. "I love you." And he let the tears fall freely.

They spent several long minutes ignoring their immediate circumstances and questions by silent agreement. Just looking at each other, taking each other in, listening to each other’s breathing over the phone, allowing themselves the solace of now. Knowing that now was never going to be enough, but accepting it for what it was.

After a while, the press of reality grew too heavy to ignore, and Felicity gathered her courage to say what she had come here to say. To ask what she had come to ask.

She spoke quickly, racing her failing nerve. “Oliver, they came for me. Diaz’s men.” She heard his sharp intake of breath, though the evidence of the attack had been apparent on her face and body from the moment he laid eyes on her. “William is okay. He’s with John.”

Oliver seemed to relax a tiny bit, though whether at the assurance of William’s safety or of the fact that John was already involved, she wasn’t sure. Probably both. She pressed on, knowing her next words would wipe that reassurance from his face.

“John wants us to assume new identities, go into another safehouse. But I can’t. I won’t.” She shook her head forcefully.

“Felicity -!”

“I have to fight back.”

Oliver stared at her in wordless protest. She knew he wanted to argue, but that there was nothing he could say today that he hadn’t already said at length months ago.

Felicity glanced around the small visitor’s space, aware that their conversation was being recorded. “I have a plan. I just wanted to let you know. I needed to let you know. And…” she let her eyes meet his again, projecting a sense of meaning that went beyond the words she spoke. “I could really use some back-up.”

She watched the realization of what she was asking dawn on him slowly.

“It’s a good plan. A lot of things have changed, for better and for worse, in Star City. Things are worse than ever, but there’s still a beacon of hope.” She nodded, confirming that she had chosen her words deliberately. Confirming that despite the fact that he had gone to jail and outed himself in an attempt to close the final chapter on the Green Arrow and Mayor Oliver Queen in one fell swoop, there were still people taking up his mantle. “I once traded in everything to be a part of that beacon of hope.” She pinned him with her eyes, forcing him to believe every word. “And it was worth it. This time, I don’t even have to give anything up. Everything’s already been taken.”

“Felicity, your safety! William’s safety -!”

“Is not guaranteed, regardless of what I do! They found me, Oliver, which means they’re still looking, which means they’ll find me again. And since when did you start believing that safety is to be found in the shadows, instead of the light? I’m tired of waiting for Diaz to come find me. I think you can tell by looking at me that when he brings the fight to me, the odds are in his favor. But I can find him, Oliver. I can take the fight to him.”

Oliver stared at her for a long moment, finally realizing just how close he might have come to losing her today. Forever. Without him ever having laid eyes on her again. Without him even knowing it was happening. He let his eyes drift over her body again, taking in every part of her. Wishing he could run his hands over every inch of her so he could know she was okay. But he knew that was just one impossible thing among a hundred impossible things, so he pulled his thoughts back to the present. He knew Felicity had a point, in theory. But the fact remained that the only thing she would accomplish by coming out of hiding was getting a target put on her back sooner. “You’re not a fighter, Felicity.” He said the words gently, as if forcing her to accept an uncomfortable truth, even though he knew they were only half-true. Felicity had always been a fighter; just not the kind who could single-handedly take down Ricardo Diaz. “You can’t do it alone.”

She leveled him with a look that contained all her hopes, putting everything on the line. Begging him to acknowledge that his way hadn’t worked. “I’m hoping I won’t have to be alone.” Asking him to try things her way. Asking him to trust her. “Please.”

He stared back at her for a long moment and everything hung in the balance. He read in her eyes that he could earn her forgiveness right then and there if he would just agree to break out of prison and help her put Diaz away. He could guarantee her safety and William’s, and he could be with them. He could have every single one of his dearest wishes granted, and she would thank him for it.

But he knew from bitter experience that his selfish choices always resulted in the suffering of the people he loved the most, that when it came down to a choice between what he wanted for himself and what was best for his family, the temptation to be selfish was too much, clouding his judgment, making him a liability. Like it had been when he had chosen to be the Green Arrow despite William’s wishes, leading him to lie to his son. His family deserved better than that. Felicity and William deserved better.

So he looked his wife straight in the eyes, greedily accepting the boundless love he found there, saving it up for all the lonely days to come, and denied her the thing she wanted more than anything else in the world, because it was what he wanted too. “I can’t.”

For just a fleeting moment longer they held the connection: her eyes begging him to not mean it, his begging her to understand, and then it was over. Everything important had been decided, and there was nothing more to say.

Felicity stood up, turning her back to him quickly so he wouldn’t see the tears of heartbreak that had already started flowing. But she couldn’t hide their evidence in her voice as she choked out her parting words. “Okay then. John will be in touch, I’m sure. We’ll try to work out a way for William to come see you.”

“Felicity.” His voice over the line already sounded far away.

“We’ll be fine. John will keep you updated.”

And she hung up the receiver and left the room without looking back.


	3. Chapter 3

Felicity sat in her car across the road from the run-down Victorian house on an unassuming street in the North District.

< _I’m here. > _

_ <Overwatch.> _

_ <The one and only.> _

She waited patiently for a response. She wasn’t surprised that the Outlaws had named her; she’d been in their system for months, deliberately leaving breadcrumbs for them to follow. A bit of signature code here, a dash of inside Green Arrow knowledge there.

She’d always known she had a bit of a fan club of her own, and not just as Ghost Fox Goddess, but from her time as Overwatch. Before Oliver outed himself, there were thousands of websites and groups dedicated to uncovering the identity of the Green Arrow, idolizing him, dissecting his every appearance and possible sighting. The fact that he had technical assistance was obvious to anyone who bothered to look. Of course, Felicity had taken care to cover most evidence of her existence, and definitely anything that would lead back to the identity of anyone on the team. So much so that even the best hackers on the dark web had never even suggested a connection between Ghost Fox Goddess and Overwatch.

But there were some talented, committed hackers out there, and some of them had specifically dedicated themselves to uncovering and amassing any and all evidence of the Green Arrow’s “cyber sidekick.” Felicity wrinkled her nose at the memory of the moniker. One of the reasons she had been so glad to finally receive a code name was that she could finally, finally leak it on the dark web and put an end to the dozens of ridiculous nicknames she’d been given. As far as her fans were concerned, no one knew who came up with the name “Overwatch;” it was just suddenly out there, and it caught on like the dankest of memes, just like she knew it would.

_ <How did you find us?> _

_ <There are a number of ways I could answer that. I could simply reaffirm that I’m Overwatch, which should be answer enough. _

_ <Or I could give you the technical answer, but that would be a pretty long and detailed explanation, and I don’t think that’s really why you asked. _

_ <Instead, I’m going to assume you’re asking because you want to buy time to locate me on your cameras and ready a team should I pose a threat to your operation. _

_ <And I appreciate that, really. Paranoia is necessary in our line of work. _

_ <But honestly I’d really like to get this show on the road, so I’m going to help you out. I’m in a maroon Buick visible on at least 3 of your street view cameras, and if you want, I’ll just come to the door and put my face up to your doorbell camera and then you can decide if you want to trust me.> _

Despite Felicity’s bold words, her hands were shaking. She had made the decision to trust the Outlaws, and she didn’t doubt that it was the right thing to do, but she was nervous.

Before Oliver had outed himself, there had been no reason to suspect that there was any connection between Overwatch and Felicity Smoak, a computer science and cyber security prodigy, former CEO, and entrepreneur who operated fully in the light of day. But since his public unmasking, there had been whispers. Speculation. To those who were paying close attention, it was simply a matter of connecting the dots. But there wasn’t a single scrap of evidence that could tie Felicity Smoak to Overwatch. Unless she declared the connection herself.

She had never let her identity be known outside a very small group of trusted individuals. And she had never done so without Oliver there to support her.

But times had changed, and Oliver wasn’t here. Wasn’t going to be here. So she was just going to have to figure out how to do this without him.

_ <Come alone. The camera’s to the left of the door. We will meet you there.> _

Felicity took a deep breath. Aside from the thing about trusting a group of relative strangers with her identity, this was the riskiest part of her plan. She knew they’d have guns trained on her from at least 3 different vantage stations as she made her way to the door. And she knew they were paranoid. Once they saw her face, she trusted that they’d instantly make the Felicity Smoak/Overwatch connection and believe she was who she said she was. But first she had to get to the door.

She shoved her tablet into her backpack, pulled the hood of her coat more tightly over her head, and stepped out into the misty rain. Her footsteps echoed down the dimly-lit street, and she could almost feel the hidden eyes watching her. When she got to the doorstep, she set her bag down and slowly began to unwrap her scarf, aware as she did so that there was no going back from this decision. She lifted her head and pulled back her hood and silently confirmed to a group of anonymous strangers that Felicity Smoak and Overwatch were, in fact, the same person.

 

* * * *

 

Felicity wasn’t sure what to expect next, but she wasn’t expecting the front door to be yanked open, revealing a lanky 20-something man with a clean-shaven face and sandy blonde hair. For a long moment he just stood there, looking at her.

“Felicity Smoak.” His eyes were wide and his Adam’s apple bobbed visibly when he swallowed.

Felicity found herself, incredibly, feeling that _she_ was the one who needed to put _him_ at ease. While standing on the doorstep of his super-secret hideout with guns pointed at her. “Little John, I assume?” She made a small motion with her hands indicating that maybe they should move inside and close the door.

In response, the man ducked his head with a self-conscious smile and waved her inside.

Felicity stepped into the entryway of what appeared to be a relatively normal house, knowing that everything she was seeing was staged for effect. The actual operation would be somewhere out of sight, probably in the basement.

“You can call me Kyle. Little John’s just a codename, _Overwatch_.” He gestured for her to take a seat in the living room.

Felicity perched primly on the edge of a dubious-looking couch and felt like she was on the strangest job interview of her life. Except she wasn’t nervous, now that the life-changing part of her plan was behind her, while Kyle most definitely was. It was surreal.

“You’re Felicity Smoak.” He seemed to be having a lot of trouble getting over that fact. He continued to stare at her.

“I am Felicity Smoak.” She felt a whisper of something, maybe pride, as she affirmed her identity. It started to occur to her that there might be people out there to whom she was famous, and not merely infamous. Since she had first publicly associated herself with Oliver 4 years ago, she had gotten used to seeing her name in the media, but her fame had been something she’d endured, not something she’d relished. She’d been aware of all her public narratives: Felicity Smoak: gold-digging-assistant-turned-girlfriend-of-Oliver-Queen; failed CEO; shooting-victim-fiancee-of-Oliver-Queen; miraculously-recovered-ex-fiancee-of-Oliver-Queen; and finally, Felicity Smoak, wife-of-vigilante-ex-mayor-Oliver-Queen. It struck her suddenly that maybe some people had noticed, and perhaps even admired, the things about her that didn’t get media attention: the things about her that made herself proud.

“I just, I can’t believe it. I mean I _can_. We certainly suspected. But it’s different somehow, knowing for sure. And you’re _here_. You’re _real_. _You_ are Oliver Queen’s wife. You’re the _Green Arrow_ ’s wife.”

Felicity watched his face as he worked through it, trying to imagine what it must be like from his perspective. She was aware that the Outlaws had dedicated themselves to continuing Oliver’s mission, that it was made up of some of his most avid admirers. She knew that, to them, he was a legend. She tried to remember what it was like before she knew Oliver, tried to recall her ideas about the vigilante and what it felt like to learn his secret, tried to remember how it felt to suddenly be dealing with a man, and not just a myth, but it wasn’t the same. When she’d started working with Oliver, he had been a vigilante, but he hadn’t yet become a hero.

“And _you’re Overwatch_. You...you know _everything_. You were a part of everything. From the beginning, right? I mean, we don’t have a lot to go on, but all signs suggest that you were helping him really early on. Which would explain why you became his secretary, right? That part of your resume definitely never made sense.” The way he suddenly looked at Felicity made her strongly suspect that he had read some of the more-unscrupulous articles that had been written about her. Thankfully, he didn’t dwell on it. “You were right there with him through it all. A part of it all.” He stopped speaking, and just looked at her in awe.

Felicity felt a surge of conflicting emotions at the vivid reminder of Oliver and her role in their shared mission. On the one hand, it was extremely gratifying to be acknowledged, from an outside perspective, to have been a vital part of the mission. During most of her time on Team Arrow, while her work was highly valued, no one had had the technical knowledge to fully appreciate the extent of her contribution. And by the time Curtis had joined the team, she and Oliver functioned so seamlessly that he hadn’t realized she might appreciate some praise. So yeah, that felt good. But on the other hand, Kyle’s breathless recitation of everything she had been a part of served as vivid reminder that this time, she was alone. Oliver wasn’t here, and in that moment his absence felt like someone had cut a piece out of her heart.

She realized then that she’d never be able to escape the reminders of Oliver while working with this new team who revered him, and that in order to make this work she needed to start establishing an identity independent of him as soon as possible. She could not, and did not want to forget the importance of the work she did with Team Arrow, but if she was going to have any success working with the Outlaws, she needed them to see her as part of something new. She needed them to stop dwelling on the heroes of the past and start being the heroes of the present. To that end, she sat up, taking charge of the bizarre interview. “Well, I’m sure there will be plenty of time later for me to recount our greatest hits, but for now why don’t you show me around? That is, if you’re satisfied that I am who I say I am, and that I’m here to help you.”

 

* * * *

 

Felicity had been both right and wrong about the location of the Outlaws’ base. It turned out that their operations stretched beyond the basement of the house into a large substructure that connected to the basements of several nearby homes. The whole base was much larger and more complex than Felicity had expected. “I won’t ask how you’re funding this, because I’ve been in your system and I know about the randomized crowd-funded donations that get funneled through a network of shell corporations. I just didn’t realize the extent of it.”

Kyle turned his head to look at her as he led her down another dim hallway. “We also have several anonymous large donors. Our cause has proven to be quite popular.”

Felicity smiled at that, letting herself take pride in the movement Team Arrow had inspired.

They came to a door at the end of the hall, and Kyle leaned in front of Felicity to hold it open for her. “And finally...command center.”

Felicity stepped into the room and was instantly taken with the impressive amount of tech in the room. Ignoring the sudden silence and the dozens of eyes that were fixed on her, she walked up to a workstation and sat down, her fingers feeling immediately at home on the keyboard. Without a second thought, she hacked into the local network and began combing through the new intel. Her eyes skimmed over a new police report, and she gasped. “There’s been another abduction! Nick Sargeant.” Her fingers flew over the keys. “He’s some kind of minor slumlord in Pennytown.” She opened up a program she’d developed to seek patterns in the Outlaws’ collected data, added Nick Sargeant’s details, and then began modifying the program with some new improvements. A moment later, she looked up, suddenly aware that everyone was staring at her.

“Oh. Hi.” She glanced around the room and waved vaguely before standing up and moving back toward Kyle, who had apparently stopped in the middle of the room when she had ditched him and was just standing there watching her. That look of awe was back on his face, and a couple people who had collected around him and were likewise gaping at her.

“This is Overwatch,” he announced unnecessarily as she drew close. “Ms. Smoak, this is Thorpe and Andromeda. We don’t have a true chain of command, but if you want to know who’s basically in charge, it’s us. Now, let’s go talk about why you’re here.”

 

* * * *

 

As Kyle shut the door to the small room, the man named Thorpe started speaking. “Ms. Smoak -”

“Felicity. Please.”

“Felicity. You look really different in person.”

Felicity watched the shaggy older man stare at her, not entirely liking the way he looked at her. She crossed her arms. “And how did you expect me to look?”

“Older. And less...pretty.”

Felicity raised her eyebrows.

Thorpe lifted his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, _Overwatch_ , you know? I’ve been following Overwatch’s trail for years, building a profile, and now suddenly _you’re_ here and….”

Felicity cocked her head, waiting for the expected misogyny.

“Look, I’m aware of all the speculation, Felicity Smoak, the Green Arrow’s wife, but... _you_?”

Felicity looked steadily back at the man. It had been a long time since anyone had underestimated her, and she remembered how much she didn’t like the feeling. “I’m Overwatch. And I’m going to assume that you’re Nightshade.”

Thorpe's eyebrows shot up, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Felicity cut him off.

“I’ve been poking around in your system for the past couple months; of course I’ve found evidence of some of your trademarks. And - side note - your code tends to favor haste over elegance. I’ve also detected the presence of a dozen or so other top-tier hackers among the Outlaws, but of all of them, you are the only one who is both obsessed with Overwatch and entrenched enough to be standing in this room. And, if that weren’t enough to confirm my suspicions, your personal hygiene (or should I say lack thereof?) tracks perfectly with my mental profile of Nightshade.”

For a long moment, Thorpe stared at her with his mouth open, and then he laughed and reached his hand toward her. “Overwatch. Glad to have you on the team.”

Felicity shook his offered hand, relieved that, even if his attitude was outdated, at least he didn’t take himself too seriously.

The woman named Andromeda stepped away from where she had been leaning against the wall. “This is all very sweet, but what are we doing? So, she’s Overwatch. Who cares?” She glanced at Felicity. “Look. I appreciate who you are, and everything you tried to do for the city. You and the Green Arrow. But if I remember correctly, we already tried things your way, and this city is worse off than ever.”

“Andromeda!”

“No, Kyle! I know the rest of you worship at the altar of the Green Arrow, but the fact is he’s gone and he left us to clean up his mess. And now we’re all the city has. The military, the FBI, the interim Star City government? They can’t protect us; they don’t know what our city needs! It doesn’t need bureaucracy, and it definitely doesn’t need heroes who just fly in for the optics and pretend that means something. It needs people who are here every day, doing the work, putting the people first, and taking back our city. So, Felicity, I don’t know where you’ve been for the past 6 months, but we’ve been managing here just fine without you.”

Felicity stared at her incredulously. “Managing without me?”

Kyle spoke up. “Andromeda’s in tactical operations, not intelligence.” He turned to the dark-haired woman. “I know you don’t keep close tabs on how we get our information. Overwatch didn’t disappear. She’s been in our system helping us for months. She’s the reason we’re so certain there’s an organized effort to destabilize the city.”

Andromeda crossed her arms. “Well if that’s the case, and you can do everything from behind a keyboard, far away from this sad city, what made you suddenly decide to show up now?”

Felicity moved into the center of the room and lifted her head into the light, putting the evidence of the attack on full display. She lifted a hand to her bruised face. “Ricardo Diaz.”

“Diaz?” Andromeda’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Not this again. Ricardo Diaz is in the wind, if he was ever even real at all. We don’t have time or resources to devote to ghosts. Ricardo Diaz was the Green Arrow’s enemy, and I say, let the two of them work it out and leave our city out of it.”

Felicity scoffed. “You think Ricardo Diaz isn’t an enemy of Star City? You think he just walked away after Oliver went to prison?”

“I think we haven’t heard from him in 6 months.”

Felicity shook her head, amazed at what she was hearing. “All data suggests that we’re dealing with a coordinated terrorist threat to Star City. And I believe Ricardo Diaz is behind it.”

Three pairs of eyes started at her in astonishment.

“You don’t have to take my word for it. But you do need me. What you’ve been doing here is barely getting by. You’ve been stopping robberies, putting out fires, I get it. It’s important work that makes a difference in people’s lives and it’s honestly more than the FBI’s managed to do. But there’s something bigger going on here, and you need me to help you stop it before it’s too late.”

She looked around the room and met each pair of eyes in turn. “I’m doing this with or without you. But it will go a whole lot faster if you join me.”

 

* * * *

 

“Little John, Overwatch, we got someone approaching our door.”

Felicity tapped her comm. “It’s probably John. Show me on camera.” The image on the screen in front of her switched to show the same walkway she had nervously approached less than a week before. “Yep, that’s John. Can someone meet him and escort him to command center, please?”

She turned her attention back to the live security feed of Starling National Bank’s headquarters, which showed a man heading toward the elevator bay. “Can we zoom in and see if we can get facial recog on that guy?” She glanced at a different camera, where Jason Bradley was pacing in his office on the 38th floor.

They had been monitoring Bradley for days, ever since they discovered he owned a building that was a probable base for a terrorist network. So far, most of his communications had been routine and benign, but the tone of his message when arranging this meeting with an as-yet unknown contact seemed anything but.  

“Got the recog. Lawrence Peabody. His family owns Peabody Shipping Corps., and he’s on the State Transportation Board. He’s also on the board of Star City Heroes.”

Felicity felt Kyle’s eyes on her. “Just like Bradley.”

She nodded, watching Peabody’s progress through the building. Behind her, a door opened, and distantly she knew it must be John. She suppressed her flutter of excitement.

Kyle was still watching her. “Maybe they’re just meeting to discuss charity business?”

“Maybe.” Like his question had been, her answer was rhetorical. They both knew something bigger was going on, and the fact that both men were on the board of one of the city’s newest, shiniest, most celebrated charities raised all kinds of questions.

On the screen, Peabody barely paused to knock on Bradley’s door before entering. Felicity shifted her eyes to the feed from the series of hidden cameras they’d managed to install throughout the office. The Outlaws may not have Team Arrow’s finesse, but they did have an impressive variety of tactical resources.

Over the mic, the two men exchanged pleasantries. As she listened, Felicity felt John come up beside her. The command room fell completely silent as the two men on camera began to speak in hushed tones.

“One hundred grand is the amount we agreed on.”

“I’m authorized to release the funds. Half today. Half upon receipt of the merchandise. But first I need confirmation on the shipment.”

“This Friday at 2:30. It will be a white, unmarked van. I just need to know where to send it.”

“It’s a gray unmarked garage on Ryland. There’s an intercom. The security phrase is: ‘I want to speak to Mr. Richards.’”

Peabody pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and slid it across the desk. “The account information.” He stood up. “I trust that you’ll wire the funds right away.”

Bradley inclined his head. “And I trust that you’ll remember this is about more than a payday. Unless, of course, you’d like me to arrange a reminder.”

In the command room, Felicity watched as Peabody turned his back and left the office without another word. She spoke to the tactical operations lead. “Let’s stick a tail on Peabody, and get to work uncovering everything we can on him. And let me know if Bradley does anything else interesting.” She turned to John, letting a little of the relief she felt at seeing him shine through. “John!”

There was fondness in his eyes, but also worry, and something else too. Wonder, maybe. “Felicity,” he began. But she held up a hand to stop him, and turned to Kyle, who started speaking as soon as she acknowledged him.

“Ryland Blvd. is at least two miles from 1687 Bay St.”

She nodded, considering the implications. “Let’s check it out. We know we haven’t seen any suspicious activity coming in or out of the warehouse, despite the fact that thermal imaging satellites confirm it’s a hub. This could be the secret entrance we’ve suspected.” She shrugged. “Two miles is certainly far away, but hey. It’s not like subterranean passageways aren’t a thing.”

Kyle met her eyes with a small smile before turning serious again. “I wonder what the ‘merchandise’ they spoke of is?”

Felicity pursed her lips. “My bet’s on assault rifles. But I’m more interested in the connection between them. They’re both on the board of Star City Heroes….”

“Well, that part could be coincidence. As far as this city is concerned, philanthropy and corruption go together like peanut butter and jelly.”

“Yes….” Felicity laughed humorlessly, wishing she didn’t know just how true those words were. “But even so. I think we ought to start looking more closely into Star City Heroes. Meanwhile, we have a lot of new angles, as well as a possible time and place for covert entry. Let’s reconvene in two hours to sort through new intel and make a plan.”

Kyle nodded, then glanced at John before giving her a slight smile and moving away.

“John! Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”

He nodded silently and followed her to a small private office. “Seems you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

She closed the door and turned to face him, letting some of her guard drop. “Well, you came during a kind-of breakthrough.”

John nodded, but he was still looking at her like she was a puzzle he couldn’t solve and for the first time in perhaps ever, the silence between them wasn’t comfortable.

“We’re just pulling every thread.”

He nodded again. “So what can you tell me?”

Felicity eyed him, not entirely certain of his motive. “Are you asking as John, or as A.R.G.U.S., or as Oliver’s spy?” She felt her heart drop as her words forced her to acknowledge out loud the implications of her fallout with Oliver.

John watched her calmly, with more compassion in his eyes than she was comfortable with. “I haven’t seen Oliver yet, not since before you. I’m scheduled to see him tomorrow.”

She shook her head, trying to regain her composure. “That doesn’t mean you won’t be reporting back to him on everything you see here.”

“Felicity, I’ll be telling Oliver about what I see here because he’ll want to know because he loves you. He’s going to want to know you’re okay, just like I need to know you’re okay, because we care about you. And I am not sure what I’m going to tell him, because I’m not so sure you _are_ okay, Felicity.”

Felicity crossed her arms at him. “This job has always been dangerous, John.”

“Yes, but I’m not only talking about the physical threat.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

John shook his head. “Look. You seem to have stepped into a leadership role here, and part of me is proud of you. Really proud. I’ve always known you had it in you.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for noticing. Maybe if Oliver had noticed too….”

John inclined his head in concession. “If Oliver has one flaw -” Felicity laughed at that “- it’s his need to protect you….”

“Maybe you could try telling him that.”

John exhaled through his nose. “It wouldn’t be the first time. Felicity, all I’m saying is this. Leadership always comes at a cost. Just take care you’re not paying too high a price.”

Felicity shook her head, silently asking him to clarify, but he changed the subject.

“So fill me in on what’s going on here. I can’t offer you any official assistance, but I’d feel a lot better if I knew what was going on. Maybe I can help as John Diggle.”

Felicity took a deep breath, clearing her head and allowing the subject to drop. “Well, as you know I’ve been helping the Outlaws tag crime around the city for months: kidnapping, assault, arson, theft, grand larceny, fraud, cyber crime, you name it. Casting a wide net and then looking for patterns. A few days ago we got lucky - we tagged a repeat arsonist, ran him through facial recog, went into his accounts, and found he’d been receiving large payments from a shell corporation: Morning Star Corps. We couldn’t trace Morning Star to a person, but we were able to view its local payroll disbursements. When we compared the timing of those payments against our database of crimes around the city, we found in each case that they correlated with a seemingly random crime in Star City. Which confirms that, as we suspected, there is a coordinated terrorism campaign behind a lot of the crime in the city, and Morning Star is bankrolling a lot of it. When we ran the associated crimes through a mapping algorithm, we were able to triangulate a probable command center: 1687 Bay St. Which is a warehouse property owned by one Jason Bradley, of Starling National Bank.”

John nodded, his brain connecting everything she said to the meeting he’d witnessed between Bradley and Peabody. “So what are you going to do now?”

Felicity considered. “I’m going to chase the evidence. We have actionable intel that there’s an organized, well-funded effort to terrorize Star City, we know where their base is, and now it seems we have a specific time and place we could conceivably sneak in unsuspected. On top of that, we might have a lead connecting the terrorists to some of the most rich and influential people in the city. The only thing we don’t have is the manpower to conduct a raid, which means...it might be time to talk to the FBI.”

John looked at her sharply. “You mean Samanda Watson?”

Felicity nodded once. “They’ve been chasing their tail for months. Maybe she’s finally ready to deal.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry for the slow updates - I am out of town and not having as much time to write as I had hoped/expected. Which means this story definitely won't be finished by the premier - *sob* - which I'm actually going to miss because I'll be on a plane! *SOB!*
> 
> Anyway, more spoilers have come out so we can definitely label this story "Season 7 canon divergent" more than "season 7 spec," but whatever. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and keep reading! I am slow, but we haven't even gotten to the good stuff yet, and it's coming, I promise!

Oliver heard the jeers of his fellow inmates as he was led through to the visiting room, but he was immune to the sting of their insults. There was nothing the inmates could say that would be worse than the accusations of his own conscience. Rather than dwell on his guilt, he did what he had always done: he survived.

If Oliver’s sense of self-preservation had taught him anything over the past half year, it was to stop acknowledging any pleasure that he didn’t have complete control over. To take pleasure in even something as insignificant as what was on the dinner menu meant setting himself up to hope, and setting himself up to hope inevitably meant setting himself up for disappointment. It was easier to just enjoy nothing, and expect nothing.

He had easily taken to this brand of asceticism in all areas of his new life save one: visits from John Diggle. As much as he hated to look forward to something that could - and had - been cancelled with no warning or explanation, he could not find it within himself to stop putting all his hope and pleasure into the bi-weekly visits.

Since Felicity’s visit last week, the anticipation for John’s visit had been especially excruciating. For as much as he longed to hear an update about her, as much as he needed John to have no such update because she had gone back into protective custody, he needed more than anything for John to confirm, somehow, that he hadn’t lost her. Because when she had turned her back on him and walked out of the visitation room, it had felt like she was leaving him for the last time. And for all that he believed she was better off without him, giving her up was the one thing he had never been able to do.

As soon as he entered the visiting room, his eyes found John and he couldn’t stop the hope that shot through his chest. As he seated himself across the glass, he searched his friend’s face for evidence of what he’d come to say.

“Oliver.”

“John.” Oliver kept all emotion from his face, but he couldn’t stop the breathlessness in his voice.

John looked at him intently. “You want to know how she’s doing. How they’re both doing.”

Oliver blinked and said nothing, but his heart was in his throat. He watched John collect his thoughts.

“They’re safe. Safe enough. She’s joined an underground rebellion, and they’re living there on a secure base.”

Oliver expelled the breath he had been holding. Several emotions warred within him: fear, relief, anger, pride. But most of all, he still burned with the need to know. “Is she - does she -?” He didn’t know how to ask, not wanting to say the words for fear that they might come true.

John watched him carefully, and Oliver was sure in that moment that he could see every fear that was etched upon his heart. A look of pity crossed John’s face, and Oliver’s stomach dropped. “Oliver, man. Felicity loves you. Your greatest tragedy is that you won’t let yourself believe it.”

Oliver stared back at his friend, not sure what to say.

John didn’t seem to need a reply. “I don’t know exactly what went on between you two, but I can tell you this: you hurt her.”

Oliver sucked in a breath, the words landing like a punch. “John, I -”

“No one has ever had the power to hurt her the way you can hurt her, and I thought I’d seen it all, Oliver, I really did. When you lied to her about William and she walked away, part of me was glad, because she deserves better.”

“I...I know! John, I know -”

“Oh, I know you know, Oliver. You know too well. But when she came back to you, I hoped you’d learned to trust her. Trust her choices. And I thought you’d finally learned to never take her love for granted.”

Bright anger flared at John’s words. “Hey! I never -”  

“But then you pulled this stunt, trading your life away for the rest of the team. Man, I couldn’t believe you’d take that risk again, not after you just got her back, not after you saw how much the past year and a half has cost her. But now I realize that you never understood _your_ role in the price she paid: for all your fear of losing her, you still don’t understand that no matter how much you push her away, Felicity can never really walk away from you - not without destroying that light, that empathy, that we all love and rely on.” He paused, giving Oliver time to digest his words. Hoping they would sink in.

Oliver’s breathing was loud over the receiver, fear and anger warring in his eyes.

John pushed on. “When she walked out of here last week….” He shook his head. “I’m worried about her. You pushed her further than I’ve ever seen her go, and I’m worried that this time it might not be our Felicity that comes back.”

Oliver stared at his friend, deeply alarmed at his words. Unable to fully believe the parts that contradicted what he believed to be true: Felicity could never truly be lost without him. She was brilliant, she was light, she was life; she loved him, but she didn’t need him. He couldn’t believe anything different. “Felicity is strong. She’s the strongest person I know.”

“Felicity might be the strongest person either of us knows, Oliver. But what Felicity needs isn’t to be strong. It’s to be loved.”

Oliver met John’s steady gaze, and he didn’t know how to answer. The anger had left him as quickly as it had come, leaving him deeply unsettled. “I do love her.” He whispered it into the receiver, as if the words were too sacred to be said out loud in this place. “I love her more than anything.”

John stared back at his friend, never doubting for a second that Oliver meant what he said. But loving Felicity had never been Oliver’s problem. “You need to show her, man.”

Abruptly, Oliver stood, half-turning to the left and then to the right, indicating the space around him. “I’m in here for her, John. I’m in here for all of you, but her most of all. Out of all of us, she is the most blameless. And we promised to protect her. I made this sacrifice to honor that vow, and I don’t regret it.”

John laughed humorlessly. “Vow. You made another vow since then, Oliver.”

“John.” His tone was low, warning.

John sighed. “She needs you, Oliver.” He looked at his friend meaningfully, aware that their conversation was recorded.

Oliver’s heart sped up. “Is she in danger? You didn’t mention -”

“She’s not in danger, not exactly. She’s involved in something, she’s deep, but she’s holding her own. She’s got reserves of strength we’ve never seen. But her greatest source of strength has always been you, and now you’re not there.”

Oliver took a breath to respond and then stopped short as John’s words hit him. “I am her source of strength?” He shook his head. “ _She_ is the one who has always given _me_ strength, John. Not the other way around.”

John was shaking his head, knowing his appeal had already failed. “One of these days you’re going to figure out how love works, Oliver. I just hope by then it’s not too late.”

Oliver felt a sense of foreboding at John’s words, feeling like he was missing something important but not knowing what. He opened his mouth, but didn’t know what to ask.

John looked down, letting the pity fall from his face before speaking again. “There’s going to be some movement in the next couple days. I’m not sure you’ll hear anything about it; maybe I shouldn’t even mention it because I’m more than half sure this is one of those ‘no news is good news’ situations, but anyway, just in case you wanted to...know. I figured I’d tell you.” He dipped his head in a gesture of significance.

Oliver stared back, catching John’s subtle plea. He shook his head slightly, his words confirming that he still had no intention to break out of prison. “My heart will be with them.” His eyes shifted to meet John’s, and they were both suddenly struck by the double meaning of the words.

“Yes. She will be.”

After that, Oliver asked about William, and John filled him in on what little he knew: that William was living at the base, being homeschooled by Felicity. That he was worried about Felicity too, but was trying not to show it. Soon afterward, John left and Oliver found himself shackled and marching back to his cell. It was several minutes later before his mask of apathy had fallen back into place.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Felicity walked toward the sleek, unmarked building with a confidence that was 50% bravado, 50% faith in her tech. She understood the reasons for meeting Samanda Watson by herself at this covert base, but that didn’t mean that a part of her wasn’t aware that this was the exact type of situation where people like her got scooped up and never heard from again. Yes, she definitely watched too many conspiracy movies when she was a teenager. But then again, she remembered what had happened to Cayden James.

She shook her head in an attempt to clear it. She was safe. She was being tracked with nanites and satellites, and every word of her conversation would be heard and recorded by the listening Outlaws.

As she stepped into the building, two Secret Service types immediately approached her and began patting her down. “Excuse me. I didn’t even get your name.” They remained silent, as she had expected, but she felt better for having expressed her annoyance.

When they finished, they indicated that she should follow them down a hallway and through a door at the end. She walked in, not knowing what to expect, but then she saw Samanda Watson and her hesitation evaporated in the face of renewed anger at the woman.

“Ms. Smoak. Or is it Mrs. Queen? You’re looking well for someone who hasn’t been seen in 6 months.”

Felicity rolled her eyes at Watson’s obvious attempts to get under her skin. She glanced around the dim room and the presence of four other individuals. When she had contacted Watson to set up this meeting, she had been disappointed, but not surprised, by the FBI agent’s insistence that a few other high-ranking agents join them. She looked back at Watson, forgoing the small talk. “You’ve been trying and failing to catch Ricardo Diaz for months. You’ve also been trying to crack a series of missing-persons cases in Star City, but so far you’ve got nothing. I have information you need. A link between Diaz and the missing persons, who have all had their bank accounts drained.” She crossed her arms. “Let’s make a deal.”

Watson raised her eyebrows slowly. “A link? Between Diaz and the missing persons? Based on what evidence?”

Felicity chewed her lower lip. “It’s complicated, but we have very good reason to believe the money from the missing persons has been used to fund an organization that’s been terrorizing the city, and I’m positive Diaz is behind it.”

Watson leaned back against the conference table with a smirk. “You believe? I asked for evidence, Ms. Smoak.”

Felicity glared at Watson’s arrogance. “That’s where you come in. We have a lot of circumstantial evidence, but anything that will stick will have to be collected physically. We know the location of their likely base of operations, and we have well-positioned operatives, and have have crucial intel, but we lack manpower. Work with us. Together, we can end this.”

Watson regarded Felicity for a long moment, as unruffled as ever. “I could ask who you’re working with, but I have a few good guesses so I’ll leave that aside for now. But tell me, in exchange for your help, what do you want, exactly?”

Felicity looked steadily back. “You know.”

“Spell it out for me, please.”

“I want you to vacate the judgment.” Her voice was low and dark. “Undo what you did. Let him go. Full exoneration.”

Watson crossed her arms. “Undo what _I_ did? Mr. Queen made that deal willingly.”

Felicity cut in. “He did it because he thought it was the only way. Because you convinced him it was the only way. But there _is_ another way, and this is it.”

Watson was silent, considering. “What’s the location of this base? I’ll need to confirm what you’re saying.”

“It’s 1687 Bay St. Thermal satellite will reveal an unusually high concentration of personnel for a supposedly abandoned warehouse.”

Watson nodded. “I’m not saying I’m convinced that your way is viable. We’ll check it out and get back to you.” She started to turn away but then stopped. “But Ms. Smoak? Don’t forget that the FBI is not the only one that needs to be convinced.”

The words struck Felicity more deeply because they came from Samanda Watson. The fact that this woman should have any insight into her relationship with Oliver was insulting, yet there it was. She forced the bitterness aside. “We’re on a tight timeline. There’s a window of opportunity in just under 48 hours, so I expect to hear from you soon.” Then she turned on her heel and walked out of the room, trying not to wonder what her team might have gleaned from the overheard conversation.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Every eye in the command room was on her as she waited for her call to connect.

“Ms. Smoak, how is it that you always manage to find a way to contact me, even on lines that should be completely dark? I don’t know whether I should be flattered or if I should put out a warrant for your arrest.” The FBI agent’s voice sounded loud and irritating over the speakers in the silent room.

“Cut the crap, Agent Watson. It’s been 12 hours. More than enough time for you to confirm what I told you.” Her eyes flicked to Kyle, who stood next to her in silent support. “What’s your answer?”

“Yes, your _offer_.” Watson laughed. “As tempting as it is, I’m afraid the FBI will have to politely decline. It isn’t within our mandate to work with _outlaws_.”

Felicity felt her cool slipping. “If we were working with you, we wouldn’t exactly _be_ outlaws, would we?” She turned her back toward the other people in the room, trying in vain to get her emotions under control.

“As always, your logic is impeccable, Ms. Smoak. But the answer is still no. We won’t be making any deals. We don’t need your assistance.”

Felicity slammed her fist on a table, frustrated at the woman’s inability to see the bigger picture. Letting anger override her disappointment. “You _do_ need our help! Without us, you don’t even know what you’re looking for! It’s been half a year, and for all the FBI’s supposed resources, _you still haven’t caught Diaz_. After everything I lost -” she cut herself off. Tried another tack. “After everything my team sacrificed, the city’s no better off. Because you’re not looking in the right places, not asking the right questions!” She shook her head, though Watson couldn’t see it.

Watson’s reply was as cool and collected as ever. “I said the answer is no. It’s been decided.”

Felicity was silent, grasping for something she could say that would convince the stubborn agent, but she couldn’t think of anything. “You are making a mistake. One you will regret.”

The sound of a dial tone was the only reply.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

“Felicity?” William had been learning, over the past week, to approach her with caution. He reached out and touched her shoulder lightly, but she still jumped.

“William! Hey! Sorry.”

“I finished my homework. I was wondering if you still wanted to watch a movie tonight?”

“Well, of course! What is it, Wednesday? On Wednesdays we watch the classics.”

“Yeah, it’s just that with everything going on -”

“William, no. We are definitely watching a movie, and you’re in luck because tonight I think it’s The Princess Bride, which I still can’t believe you haven’t seen!” She leaned back and gave him a skeptical look, attempting to lighten the mood. “Are you sure you’re not lying to me about that?”

William cracked an enigmatic smile, but it was fleeting. “I just.... Things aren’t going well, are they?”

Felicity felt a rush of love for him, this kid who had such a capacity for compassion and trust, despite everything the world had served him. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked him frankly in the eye, because at the very least he deserved honesty. “Things could be better. But hey, it’s just a small setback. We’re going to get him, and then we’ll get out of here and it’s going to happen sooner rather than later, okay?”

William nodded. “It’s not so bad here.”

Felicity pulled him suddenly against her chest, fighting back tears at his attempt to be strong for her. Stoicism was one trait she never wanted him to learn from his father. “No, William. It _is_ pretty bad. This is not normal, and you _deserve_ normal. Okay? Don’t ever think that I don’t know that.” She hugged him more tightly.

He was still in her arms for a moment, then he hugged her back. “Okay.”

Felicity could have stayed standing like that for five minutes, recharging her sense of humanity in the arms of a kid who might have easily hated her, but who had chosen to love her instead, but her phone buzzed and lately that wasn’t a thing she could ignore. She took a deep breath and gave William an apologetic look as she pulled away from him.

_ <Turn on the news.> _

Felicity leaned over and turned up the volume on her monitor, her eyes catching on the headline splashed across the screen: _Starling General Abduction: Kidnapper Demands Wife of the Green Arrow in Exchange for Hostage._

“...more information regarding the kidnapping of Dr. Elisa Schwartz from the parking lot of Starling General Hospital earlier this evening. The SCPD has confirmed that the kidnapper has released a statement demanding that Felicity Smoak, wife of the Green Arrow, be delivered to him in exchange for Dr. Schwartz. The demand claims that Dr. Schwartz will be released safely if Ms. Smoak turns herself in at Port 11 at 5 PM tomorrow. The SCPD did not state whether or not Felicity Smoak intends to comply with the demand, nor whether or not the department could confirm Ms. Smoak’s presence in Star City. The wife of the former mayor hasn’t been seen or heard from in almost 6 months, and…”

Felicity stood staring, open-mouthed, at the screen, but her mind was racing. Dr. Schwartz. Who knew Oliver’s identity and kept his secret, who had testified on his behalf at Oliver’s trial. Demanding her as ransom, when no one except a select group of trusted people even knew she was in town.

With one notable exception. The FBI. Who, coincidentally, had only just learned of her presence last night. She felt William come up beside her.

He spoke without taking his eyes off the news. “It’s Diaz, isn’t it?”

She reached out and squeezed his arm in answer.

There was a loud knock at the door of the subterranean suite. “Felicity?”

“Come in, it’s not locked.”

Kyle strode in. “Why are they asking for you?”

She held his gaze as he reached her in three large steps. “And how do they know I’m even here?” She shook her head, already suspecting the answer. “Where are we with the FBI?”

“They’re moving up the timeline. 1 PM tomorrow.  They must suspect a connection too.”

Felicity sighed. They’d learned that the FBI was planning a raid on the base at 1687 Bay St off the intel Felicity had provided.

“Do you want to assist them?”

“There’s nothing we can do for them if they’re not willing to work with us.” They had already gone over this, and the hostage situation changed nothing. The FBI’s M.O. was not compatible with the assistance they could provide, unless they collaborated willingly. “Will we be able to likewise move up our timeline?” They had decided that, even though the FBI wouldn’t work with them, the Outlaws could still take advantage of the distraction of the raid and conduct a covert mission of their own.

“Yeah. But Felicity -”

“I know. There’s a mole. In a high position within the FBI. One of the people who was in the room with me and Watson. Maybe even Watson herself.”

Kyle nodded. “This means we have to be ready for anything.”

Felicity held his gaze, nodding slowly in return.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I hope you haven't forgotten about this story! I know I'm being very slow with my updates, but I'm still very committed to seeing this through. And, in fact, I already have another whole chapter after this one completely ready to go. We'll see how long I'll sit on it before I post. I'm guessing not long at all, because I have no chill. ;)

Felicity sat in an unmarked van on Ryland Blvd. They’d been keeping tabs on the drab, grey garage door ever since learning that it was a probable secret entrance to a terrorist base, and their surveillance had confirmed that it was a fairly active doorway.

The silence in the van was punctuated by a stream of chatter and the sounds of combat from the FBI comms she had hacked. It was clear from their updates that they had received intel that the hostage was inside the warehouse, but Felicity was suspicious. She hadn’t managed to learn anything about Dr. Schwartz’s location, and the FBI had never previously uncovered any significant info before she did.

Kyle touched her arm, and she looked at him, nodding. It had been 4 minutes since the FBI had begun their siege, meaning that the terrorists should be as fully engaged as they were likely to be. At her signal, their driver pulled into the driveway and buzzed the intercom. No response. He tried again, but it appeared that everyone inside was preoccupied.

Felicity pushed the driver aside and leaned out the window, cracking open the gate access control box to access the wires inside. “Still got it,” she muttered as the grey door opened in front of them. She turned around and swept her eyes over the 7 Alpha team operatives who were watching her attentively before turning to Andromeda. “All set?”

Andromeda nodded sharply. The plan was for Felicity and Kyle to infiltrate the base’s systems and download their data drives. In and out, hopefully without having to engage the enemy at all. Andromeda and the tactical team were only there to provide cover just in case.

“Then let’s move.”

As soon as their driver pulled through the door into a large, empty hangar-like building, Felicity spied an unattended computer bank and sprinted out of the van, followed closely by Kyle and Andromeda. “Bingo.” In a matter of seconds, she breached the intranet and created a local log-in, then began sifting through the data directory.

Kyle stood at her elbow, assisting in her search, and Andromeda stood behind them, scouring the room.

“Dammit. Looks like -”

“They’re using a separate server for sensitive intel.”

“Several separate servers, actually.”

There was a sudden loud explosion over the comms, and Felicity jumped, holding in the scream that she once would have let out instinctively. It was followed by a confusion of voices over the FBI’s radio, but before she could make sense of what they were saying, her attention was drawn to a more immediate threat as three men ran in from a side door.

“Get down! Get down!”

Felicity ran for cover behind the computer terminal  as a hail of bullets ricocheted above her head. Andromeda was returning fire, and Felicity could hear her giving orders to their team in the van. In a matter of seconds, it was over, the Outlaws outmatching the terrorist thugs in both skill and numbers. But they had been spotted, and there could be more.

Felicity tapped her comm, speaking both to the Beta team back at the base and the onsite Alpha team that was regrouping in front of her. “Sherwood, it looks like we’ve got to go deeper to get what we need. I’ve uploaded schematics of the base to our cloud, so you can guide us if we get lost. The server room’s on sublevel B about a mile and a half away in Sector 4.” She met Andromeda’s eyes. “That’s our target.”

Andromeda nodded.

Thorpe’s voice came over the comms. “Copy that, Overwatch.”

“Back in the van we go, then.” Felicity glanced around at her team. “Be ready for anything.”

Felicity pulled up the 3-D blueprints of the base on her tablet, mapping out the best route. The compound included several satellite sectors, each containing several rooms of indeterminate purpose, radiating out from the larger main area that centered around the warehouse on Bay St. A system of intersecting tunnels connected each sector to each other and to one of three street-level exits. “Make a left here and then go straight for three quarters of a mile.”

As they drove through the dim, narrow tunnel, they could hear the sounds of the FBI’s mission over the comms. The primary team was engaged in an out-and-out firefight, while a smaller team seemed to be pressing toward what they believed was Dr. Schwartz’s location. “What are the chances no one makes us?” Kyle muttered.

Felicity flicked her eyes toward him, not answering.

“We don’t know if those gunmen had a chance to radio an alert.”

“Make a right at this intersection.” Felicity looked at Andromeda, who was holding her tongue, then back at Kyle. “Our van is unremarkable and these guys are a little tied up at the moment. Let’s just focus on the job.”

As they drew closer to the primary base, the sound of live gunfire began to replace the muted reports that filtered in through their headsets. The main FBI task force seemed to have established control of the central compound, while the smaller hostage-rescuing team reported on their progress as they approached the supposed hostage location.

“This is it.” Trusting her team to back her up, Felicity hopped out of the van and overrode the security code of a large door that led to a series of server rooms. She caught Andromeda’s eye and the other woman nodded, entering the room first with her gun drawn.

Felicity stood back, hearing the inevitable volleys of gunfire as her team secured the room. She closed her eyes against a sudden, visceral sense of absence over the lack of Oliver’s ninja-like finesse and subtlety. She hoped they weren’t attracting too much attention. Or delivering fatal wounds.

“We’re clear!”

Felicity stepped through the door, consciously not looking at the array of bodies sprawled around the room. Instead, she pulled a pair of data-sniffers out of her pocket and initiated their programs. “This will take more than a few minutes.” She placed the sniffers on opposite sides of the room. “In the meantime, I’m going to see if I can verify the hostage’s location.”

She stationed herself at a computer bank and quickly accessed the compound’s security feed, while  she listened over the comms as the FBI’s rescue team reported on their progress. “Got ‘em!” Video of a the small FBI team covertly moving through a dark hallway appeared on one of the monitors. “And their destination is...oh no. No, no, noo…!”

“What?”

Felicity was staring at second security feed, displaying a crowd of hostiles in a small room, all pointing their firearms toward the closed door. “It’s a trap.”

“What’s a trap?”

Instead of answering, Felicity typed furiously on her tablet before pressing her comm link. “Hi, FBI? You don’t know me, but you need to stop right now. You’re walking into a trap.”

Over the comms, they all heard the confused reply from the rescue team’s unnamed leader. “Who is this? What’s going on?”

“I don’t have time to explain! Just listen to me. The mission you’re on, to rescue Dr. Elisa Schwartz? It’s a setup; it’s a trap! You need to turn around _now.”_

“Look, I don’t know what kind of joke this is, but you need to get off this line immediately.”

Felicity jerked her head in frustration, disconnecting her link to the FBI. “They’re not going to listen.” She stood abruptly and looked at her team. “We need to intercept them. Let’s go.”

“Overwatch.”

Felicity turned toward Andromeda. “What?”

“Stay here. Put us on the path. Let us do our job.”

Felicity held her gaze for a long moment before nodding. There wasn’t time to argue. She pointed to the blueprints on her tablet. “We’re here. The FBI is here, and they’re headed here. If you hurry, you can intercept them here.”

“Got it.” Andromeda turned, signalling to her team.

Felicity watched them leave, a strange feeling in her chest at sending them off to fight while she stayed in relative safety. It was a familiar scenario, very similar to her days with Team Arrow, yet it was somehow completely different, too.  “Good luck,” she said quietly.

“Hey.” Kyle, also not a soldier, had stayed behind with her. “They’ll be fine.”

Felicity gave him a long look, allowing herself to take some comfort in his confidence before turning back to her tablet, where she was able to monitor the trackers on her team. She pressed her comm, reestablishing her connection to the FBI. “Look, you might believe this is some kind of joke, but I assure you it’s not. I have a team on their way to you. They are friendlies. Please listen to them.” Her eyes scoured the security feed for threats.

The two teams had almost converged when Felicity saw a group of armed gunmen heading toward the FBI’s rescue team.  “Felicity….” The urgency in Kyle’s tone informed her that he saw it, too.

She tapped her comm. “FBI! You’ve got a group of hostiles coming up behind you!”

Before she could switch her transmitter to direct her own team to assist, Felicity heard Kyle’s voice doubled over the line and in person. “Alpha team - you’re about to be intercepted by a group of hostiles coming from the hallway ahead of you on the right!”

“Shit, what?” He was right. Just as the two teams converged, a second group of hostiles appeared. They were surrounded. The sounds of gunfire and screams rang loud in their ears as both teams engaged their enemies. “They don’t have any cover. We need to help them!” Felicity pulled up the base’s technical schematics, searching for a miracle.

“Uh oh.”

Her eyes and fingers continued their desperate search. “Don’t say ‘uh oh. We can’t handle ‘uh oh’ right now.” She tried to ignore the sounds of battle in her ears.

“They’re about to get more company. The team that was lying in wait isn’t waiting anymore. They’re on an intercept path.”

“No, that’s not going to work. They’ve got their hands full as it is.”

“Well, unless you can -”

“Got it!” She touched her commlink, connecting to both teams at once. “Guys, I need you to listen to me. There’s a hallway just west of you. I need you to move toward that hallway. Then, on my signal, I will need you to turn and run south down that hallway, as fast as you can go.”

“Felicity, what?” Kyle was clearly baffled, but Felicity didn’t have time to explain.

“Alpha team, FBI, do you copy?”

“Copy.” Felicity was relieved to hear Andromeda’s voice.

“We copy.” The unnamed FBI lead sounded bewildered, but willing to follow her directions.

“Okay, get into position. Try to keep them to the north of your position, I’m going to be closing a fire door and am going to need all of you on this side of it.” She watched as her expanded team maneuvered themselves into position. Thankfully, the close quarters meant that gunfire had mostly given way to hand to hand combat. For the moment, she refused to consider the possibility of casualties. “Good, okay. Almost there.” She watched as the last member of her team positioned herself south of their opponents. “Okay go, go, go!” She watched as the joint teams turned as one and ran, and she slammed the fire door just as soon as the last of them was through. A few hostiles made it through before the door magnetically sealed, but they were quickly dispatched. “FBI, follow my team. We’ll meet up here and get the hell out of here.”

Felicity sighed heavily and stood to collect the data sniffers, which had had more than enough time to download the intel they’d come for. She could feel Kyle’s eyes on her, reading into her silence. “This was supposed to be an intel-only mission.” She turned toward him.

He nodded. “Things changed. It was never going to be without risk.”

Felicity closed her eyes and took a calming breath. There was no reason to worry yet. And they still had to get out of here.

Her comms crackled to life. “Closing in on your position, Overwatch.”

“We’ll meet you in the van. All of you.”

 * * * *

 Ten minutes later, they were back on the streets, heading to the emergency room after dropping off the FBI at their Bay St. triage. It had been a tense drive. Among the FBI, there had been two casualties, while three more had suffered serious injury. None of the Outlaws had died, but three had potentially serious gunshot wounds.

Felicity shoved aside the press of guilt and responsibility as she used her tablet to sift through the data she’d downloaded. Dr. Schwartz was still in danger, with only hours to go until the hostage-takers’ original 5 PM deadline. And that was assuming that the raid hadn’t completely nullified that window of opportunity.

It had only taken her a minute to decrypt the files they’d stolen; after that it was just a matter of sorting through a deliberately opaque organizational system. But Elisa Schwartz’s life was on the line, and this was hardly Felicity’s first rodeo. “Got it! I got it! Yes...yes!”

Kyle leaned over her shoulder to peer at the screen. “You found where they’re holding the hostage?”

“Yes, and...oh. Oh, no.”

“What?”

“No, it’s. It’s fine.” She pressed her transmitter. “Sherwood, time to assemble Beta team for the rescue op. I’m sending coordinates and specs to you right now.”

“What’s the problem? The site?”

Felicity looked between Andromeda in the front seat and Kyle next to her. “No, no. The site’s primary security seems to have been its secrecy. It’s not heavily fortified or guarded, and with the distraction of the FBI raid, they probably don’t have the resources for backup just yet. And that’s assuming they’re aware that we snuck in and stole their data. So as long as our team gets there quickly, it shouldn’t be anything we can’t handle.”

“Okay….” Kyle was looking at her warily. “So?”

Felicity held her tablet out to him, pointing at the document she’d come upon. “It’s that confirmation we were looking for but hoping we wouldn’t find.”

“What confir...oh.”

“Someone care to tell me what’s going on?” Andromeda’s characteristically brisk tone was sharper for having been left out of the discussion.

“Star City Heroes. This document proves it’s a front, and that Diaz is the one behind it.”

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

By 9 PM, Felicity was _done_.

Hours earlier, her team had successfully rescued Dr. Schwartz from an abandoned building in the Warehouse District, and that had been the one and only piece of good news she’d received that day.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t thrilled that they’d saved her former team’s ally, especially since they’d managed to do so without having to confirm to Star City’s entire criminal element that the Green Arrow’s wife was back in town. And it wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful that their intel-gathering mission had been, technically, successful. It was just that she didn’t know how to measure those successes against what they had cost. She closed her eyes, thinking of the FBI officers who had been led to their deaths by someone they had trusted. She’d learned their names: Agent Peter Escalante and Agent Maria Sokolov.  For a brief moment, they’d been on her team, and she had failed to protect them.

And as the evening wore into night, it was dawning on her just how much more they needed to be willing to pay in order to see this through.

A small sigh escaped from her lips as she put the final touches on a new pattern-seeking algorithm and turned back to the wiki she was writing. The success of their mission was a double-edged sword. She’d managed to recover a lot of data. A _mess_ of data. Names, money, locations, and incidents that now had to be sorted and cross-referenced before they could be fully understood, before they could be acted upon. But one thing was glaringly clear: the organization they were up against was way larger, more organized, more well-funded, and more established than she had previously thought possible.

It was exactly the kind of evidence that would ultimately unravel Diaz’s plan; it was exactly the kind of concrete proof that the FBI had been asking for. Only now, she couldn’t trust the FBI. They were on their own.

Her phone buzzed. _ <Should I put dinner in the microwave?> _

She tapped out a hasty reply. _ <Yeah, I’m about finished here. I’m sorry, Will.> _

She closed her wiki and sat back, confident that she’d created a comprehensive document that would help the next shift of Outlaws continue the work she and her team had started. She sensed Kyle’s eyes on her.

“Say it.”

He stood up and crossed over to lean against her desk. “We did good today, Felicity. You did good.”

Her mind was still buzzing with about five different competing worries and priorities, but she focused on the man standing a foot in front of her, eyes traveling slowly up his dark blue sweater until she looked into his eyes. She blinked at the intense look she found there. “Two of those FBI agents died. Markowicz, Porter, and Velez are still in the hospital.”

“They knew the risks. And we got the data.”

Felicity stood abruptly, suddenly angry. “Don’t talk to me about _risks._ Don’t act like there’s an equation that can reconcile the value of a life in units of risk.” She shook her head. “The distance between risk and tragedy is not something that can be quantified, calculated, and factored into our strategy.”

“Felicity.” He laid his hand on her shoulder in a gesture that was meant to be comforting, but Felicity flinched at the unfamiliar contact.

Her instinct was to pull away, but Kyle’s earnest green eyes anchored her in place just as much as his touch did, and she found herself relaxing instead. She released a deep breath. “It’s just that...today was so hard, but it was nothing compared to what we still have left to do. So much left that we have to get perfect on the first try, because I can’t go back and refactor it at the end of the day. If my code’s messy, people die.”

“Hey.” He squeezed her shoulder and gave a lopsided smile. “You’re lucky I’m a fellow hacker able to follow your programming metaphor. And I don’t know what to tell you regarding the difference in risk between hacking and leading a team, but I do know this: we rescued Dr. Schwartz today. We got the data from Diaz’s org. The pieces are finally coming together, all because of _you._ You did that. In two weeks, you’ve managed to do what we couldn’t do in almost six months.”

Felicity nodded slowly as his words began to penetrate her doubt. “Okay. If you say so, okay.” She quirked her lips, consciously lightening the mood. “I was kinda hoping we’d be passing the reins to the FBI at this point, but I guess that plan’s out the window.”

Kyle laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, no. It seems we’re still going to have to do it alone.”

They stood for a moment locked in silent contemplation until Felicity’s phone began to buzz. “Oh crap, William.” But when she checked the caller ID, she saw with a mix of pleasure, worry, and suspicion that it wasn’t her step-son. “John, what is it?”

Over the line, John’s voice was tentative. “Hey, Felicity, how are you doing?”

And the sound of his voice was achingly familiar, so full of that old John Diggle concern, that she was overwhelmed by a sudden sense of sorrow and loss. She sat down before her legs gave out. “I’m...I’m okay.” The last time she had seen him, she had consciously put on a brave face for him, needing to convince him that she had everything under control, but now she found that she didn’t care what he thought; the truth was that she was tired of doing this without him. She missed that particular, brotherly, John Diggle brand of support that she had leaned on for so many years. “Thanks for calling.”

John cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Actually, Felicity, I’m calling for a reason.”

His tone was odd, and Felicity was instantly on alert. “What’s up? Is it Oliver?” Felicity was suddenly aware that Kyle was right there, watching her from where he still leaned against her desk.  

“No, nothing like that, Felicity. It’s Samanda Watson.”

Felicity felt her stomach drop. “Oh.”

“She called me - wanted me to get in touch with you. She’s interested in a partnership. With you. A ‘pooling of resources,’ to use her words.” He paused. “To catch Diaz.”

Felicity kept her voice neutral. “She said that? That she’d be willing to work with us, to catch Diaz?”

“Yes.”

“Just like that? After I went to her and begged for her help, and she slammed the door in my face?”

“Look, Felicity, I’m just the messenger here, but it seems to me you might want to take her up on this. I know you have a pretty solid operation over there, but you can’t possibly have the resources of the FBI.”

Felicity sighed, wishing it were that simple. “What exactly did she say to you, John? Did she tell you that the FBI’s compromised? That they have a leak and can’t be trusted?” She blurted the words harshly, intending to shock him with the truth.

“She did. She -”

“What? Wait, so she knows they have a mole?”

“Felicity, yes. That’s part of the reason she wanted to reach out to you. I don’t have all the details, but she wants to arrange a meeting. She told me to tell you that from what they learned today, they could really use someone with your abilities - and those of your friends - in unraveling this terrorist network. And in catching Diaz.”

“And did she finally admit that those two things are connected?”

“She didn’t say that exactly, but she seemed to be open to the possibility. And she also said, regarding the mole, that you specifically could be instrumental in rooting out the compromised individual or individuals, because she knows she can trust you.”

“Mmhmm.” Felicity turned toward Kyle, realizing belatedly that he ought to be privy to this conversation. “I’m going to put you on speaker, John.”  She met Kyle’s inquisitive eyes. “To recap: Watson’s had a change of heart and wants to work with us. She admits they’ve got a leak and wants us to be her plumber.”

He lifted his eyebrows at her. “Yeah, but Watson….”

Felicity nodded.

“Just for argument’s sake, John, what’s she offering in exchange for our help?”

His heavy sigh was all the answer she really needed. “She said you would ask. She said you’d tried to negotiate for Oliver’s release, and she told me to specifically tell you that that offer is not on the table.”

Felicity barked out a sound that would have been a laugh had there been anything funny about the situation. “And yet she still expects me to meet up with her, after that non-enticement?”

“She asked me to remind you that saving Star City is your mission, and catching Diaz is in your own interest. And she’s not wrong, Felicity.”

Felicity closed her eyes, sighing. It was increasingly clear that Diaz had his claws in deep, and Felicity wasn’t at all sure the Outlaws could take him down by themselves. But as much as the help would be appreciated, and as much as Felicity might have been tempted just two days ago to work with the FBI even without the promise of Oliver’s freedom, things had changed. As if taking Elisa Schwartz - a person with ties to the Green Arrow - hostage and then demanding Felicity in exchange - right after Felicity revealed herself to the FBI - weren’t evidence enough of a high-ranking mole in the FBI, the fact that someone had fed false information about Dr. Schwartz’s location to the FBI proved it. She couldn’t possibly afford to trust the FBI again. They’d just have to find another way to take down Diaz.

She met Kyle’s eyes across the room, reading in them an echo of her thoughts. “No deal, John. The mole either has to be one of four very high ranking agents in the FBI who were present when I met with Watson two days ago, or Watson herself. And until we know, we can’t risk working with them.” She heard him sigh, and she rushed to get off the line. “Look, I am very very late for dinner with William. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

John sounded defeated. “Okay, Felicity. Take care of yourself.”

“I will, John. I’ll be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Now come be my friend on [tumblr!](https://allimariexf.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And hey if you liked this, please let me know and share it around! As much as I hate to admit it, views and comments and kudos really are fuel for writers. xD


	6. Chapter 6

 

Oliver was frozen, skewered by Felicity’s penetrating gaze.  _ “Go. Go get Thea. Stop Slade. Do whatever it takes. End this, once and for all.” _ Accepting him. Grounding him. Centering him.

She cut through all the noise and spoke directly to the truest part of him; the part of him that no one saw but her. And he had pushed her away. Over and over again, he built walls between them. To protect her, he told himself. But he knew deep down it was just as much to protect himself.

She was relentless. She surrounded him, sealing off his escape routes, shining light in the shadows. She pressed him, step by step, to tear down his walls. Not for her, but for his own benefit. She demanded that he face himself. She lifted her eyes to him in challenge, refusing to look away.  _ “Not unless you tell me why.” _ Waiting for him to face his own truth. Not knowing or expecting what it would be; only knowing he needed to express it.

_ “Slade took Laurel because he wants to kill the woman I love.” _

Unsuspecting, she didn’t hesitate.  _ “I know, so?” _

And he laid it on her. A burden he never meant for her to carry.  _ “So he took the wrong woman.” _

A tectonic shift in her eyes.  _ “Oh.” _ Surprise, uncertainty, but below it - recognition. And a deep, fundamental acceptance.

Also, he learned, a willingness to carry that burden for both of them.  _ “When you told me you loved me, you had me fooled, for a second, that...maybe you might have meant it.” _

And like a coward he had allowed her to bear it alone for far too long while she waited for him to be ready. Angry, but never completely giving up on him. Believing that he wouldn’t wall her out. Trusting that, when the time came, he would let her in.

And as much as he had resisted, he  _ had  _ let her in. Because how could he not? She was a foregone conclusion from the moment he set eyes on her.

For the millionth time, he imagined her. Her hands. Reaching, calming, staying, squeezing. Stroking, caressing.  

Her lips. Firm, parted, pressed, smiling, bitten, panting, licking, kissing. 

The way she looked at him. Sometimes steady and trusting, sometimes teasing or challenging, sometimes proud, always supporting, compelling, irresistible. Always with love. 

His mind skittered backwards, seeking memories of the most recent happy, carefree times with her. The night he was acquitted...but no. Before then. When she had arrived at home that night wrapped in a long pink coat that swirled around her legs like the worry that swirled in her eyes, and he had pulled her into his arms and assured her that he would always come back. 

But no, no, he had projected calm but Oliver realized now his heart hadn’t been at peace that night, not really. He had lied to her. He had been lying for months. 

Further back, to the setting sun shining through their living room window and her palms on his cheeks, reassuring him that she wasn’t going anywhere. Her eyes, her hands, her voice a palpable extension of her love. Except he hadn’t reached back, hadn’t completed the connection. A part of him had already been receding.

He thought back further, surprised to realize just how long he’d been pulling away. Their wedding. The happiest day of his life, when Felicity had finally reached across and grasped the hand he’d never once stopped extending toward her in all the time they’d been broken up. And for a moment, he was complete. 

What had changed? Had he reached the pinnacle of happiness? Was there nowhere left to go but down?

The squeak of the library cart being wheeled down the corridor shook Oliver out of his half-dream. When he was awake, he kept himself from dwelling too deeply on his relationship with Felicity, preferring to focus on immediate things that he could control. But when he closed his eyes, his mind drifted to her immediately, and he would wake up with a deep sense of longing and dread that didn’t fade for hours afterward.

But not this time. Ever since John’s visit two days ago, he’d been hyper focused on learning any news from outside. As the cart rolled up, John’s words flitted through his memory:  _ “There’s going to be some movement in the next couple days. I’m not sure you’ll hear anything about it; I’m more than half sure this is one of those ‘no news is good news’ situations.” _ But the fact that he might never hear anything meant nothing to Oliver; in Slabside he existed from breath to breath in suspended animation; even the slightest possibility of news of his wife was enough to live on indefinitely. 

He requested the newspaper, and before he even held it in his hand the bold headline sent his heart racing:  **“Dramatic Hostage Rescue Results In 12 Casualties.”** He knew with immediate, bone deep certainty that it had to do with Felicity. But it was the subheading that made his heart stop: “FBI Claims Credit; Refuses To Comment On Felicity Smoak Involvement.”

“Guard!” The word burned and tore at his throat, but he didn’t notice. “Guard! I need to make a phone call. Guard!”

* * * *

In the end they let him make the call. The six months Oliver had spent in the prison had lulled some of the prisoners and most of the staff at Slabside into believing the Green Arrow wasn’t half as dangerous as he was rumored to be, but in the hour before they decided to let him make an unscheduled phone call, he had changed all their minds.

Disarming the trio of guards who had stepped into his cell to beat him into silence had been second nature. He then fought his way through a squad of backup officers, leaving bodies and collecting weapons on his way. Locking down the floor was fairly simple after that. He settled into the guard’s office and used the radio on an unconscious man who had conveniently fallen at his feet to begin negotiations with the warden. 

Shortly afterward, they gave him the code that allowed him to use the office phone to make external calls, and he dialed Samanda Watson’s number.

When he was done, he unlocked the set of doors leading to the stairs and calmly walked back to his cell, stepping over bodies as he went. The prisoners watched him wordlessly as he passed.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

“You seem to have made quite an impression.”

Oliver stared back at Agent Watson from the other side of the small table that separated them, not in the mood for small talk. He spoke in precise, clipped syllables. “Tell me about my wife.”

Watson regarded him for a long moment, looking for cracks in his facade. There didn’t appear to be any. The truth was, if Oliver hadn’t called her, she would have come to visit him anyway. To request his help.

“Agent Watson.” His voice was dangerously low. “Tell me. About. My wife.” 

She blinked at him, drawing upon her earned water-cooler status as one of the FBI’s top interrogators in an effort match his equilibrium. “Ms. Smoak has joined an underground rebellion calling themselves ‘The Outlaws,’ and yesterday she was involved in an FBI raid against a terrorist base of operations in Star City.”

“Involved?”

“She, along with members of her team, infiltrated the base and assisted one of our teams that was on a hostage recovery mission.”

If not for her extensive training, Watson wouldn’t have noticed the very slight pause that preceded his next question. “Is she alive?”

Samanda Watson was not a deliberately cruel person, but empathy was not one of her strengths. She held Oliver’s unreadable eyes for a long moment as she tried to figure out what she needed to tell him in order to get him to go along with her proposal. He seemed perfectly calm, except he was holding his breath. “Yes. She’s alive.”

His breath exploded out of his chest, but it was his hand slamming down on the table in front of her that made her jump. “Stop playing games with me. How did she get involved? How did the kidnappers know that Felicity was in Star City?”

Despite herself, Samanda’s heart was beating fast from his outburst, and she rushed to answer his question. “Those are two different questions, actually. Felicity initially involved herself because she believed the group behind the kidnapping has connections to Diaz.”

Oliver leaned forward, widening his eyes in surprise. “Diaz? You’re sure?”

The agent looked down at her hands. “We have not yet been able to confirm the connection, but it remains a possibility.” She looked up and met Oliver’s eyes. “Your wife approached us, wanting to work with us. She had an arsenal of suspicions but very little evidence, so we declined to work with her group of vigilantes.”

Oliver scoffed, but seemed unsurprised. “I’m waiting for the part where you tell me how the kidnappers knew to demand Felicity in exchange for the hostage. Felicity’s too smart to have exposed her presence in Star City.”

Watson took a deep breath, knowing they had reached the crux. “I arranged a meeting between me, several other agents, and your wife. It was shortly after that meeting took place that the demand was made.” She waited, knowing Oliver would easily put the pieces together. 

He stilled. “You have a leak in your organization?”

“It appears so.” 

“Your lack of security endangered my wife.” It was barely a question.

“Your wife put herself in danger the moment she aligned herself with you, Mr. Queen.” 

Oliver gave no outward sign that he heard her. “You were supposed to take down Diaz. You were supposed to make sure she and my son could live their lives in peace. Instead, you put her in the crosshairs.”

“Mr. Queen, from what I’ve seen, your wife can take care of herself. We have bigger problems.”

The look he shot her sent a chill down her spine. “I am in this prison to protect my family. And now they are directly in danger because of  _ your  _ negligence. Don’t tell me you have bigger problems.”

Watson sighed and took a mental step back. “I reached out to your wife last night. In light of what we learned from yesterday’s raid, her unique skill set would be invaluable in helping us take down this terrorist organization. But more than that, the existence of a mole in the FBI leadership puts me in an extremely vulnerable position. I need someone on the outside, someone I can trust, to help me root it out.”

“Let me guess: that didn’t go over well.”

“Your wife is stubborn. And under the circumstances, petty.”

“Petty?”

“Yes, Mr. Queen. She came to us for help and we declined, for good reason; now that she could actually be useful, she’s refusing to work with us.”

“You call that petty? I call it smart. Sounds like she went out on a limb to trust you before, only to have it backfire spectacularly.”

“Be that as it may, she needs us. And I need her.”

Oliver waited.

“Which is where you come in.” 

Oliver sat back in his chair slowly, watching the agent’s face. “And what is it that you think I can do for you?”

Watson settled her hands on the table in front of her. “If you mean am I asking you to be that other guy...no.”

“No?”

“No. Maybe. If it comes to that, maybe. But what I really need is your ability to get through to your wife. She doesn’t trust us, but  _ you  _ can persuade her to work with us. I need you to gain her cooperation, her intel, and her resources.” She lifted her chin. “Do you think you can do that?”

Oliver’s heart was beating fast at the possibilities that seemed to be unfolding in front of him, but the feeling that agreeing to Watson’s terms meant going against his wife’s wishes sent a tendril of dread down his spine. And yet. “In exchange for what?” 

“I am prepared to extend the immunity agreement.”

Oliver lifted his eyebrows. “Extend it to include…?”

“You, Mr. Queen. If you help us take down Diaz and uncover the mole in the FBI, I will give you back your freedom.” 

He knew Felicity had good reason for not trusting Watson. But he was confident he could find a way to make it work. He swallowed and held the agent’s eyes, nodding slowly.

 

* * * * * * * * *

  
  


The ringing phone woke John out of a dead sleep but the only thought running through his head was that he needed to answer it before JJ woke up. He didn’t even look at the caller ID.

“Hello.” His eyes drifted to Lyla, whose tense body indicated that she was awake and alert. More alert that he felt.

“John.” He felt his blood go cold.

“Oliver?!”

“John, I know it’s late, I’m sorry. I need to ask a favor. Can...can you come get me?”

It took a moment for the meaning of those words to cut through John’s groggy state. “Come get you? Oliver, what’s going on?” Next to him, Lyla sat up and leaned toward him, her hand on his arm. “What time is it? Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I’m at Slabside. I know it’s a drive, but I didn’t know who else to call….” John instantly thought of Felicity, the one person Oliver clearly would have called, had he known how to get in touch with her.

“It’s not a problem, man. Just please tell me what’s going on.” He stood up and turned on the light, automatically preparing for the drive.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story, but,” Oliver’s tone lifted as he spoke, “um, I worked out a deal with Watson.”

John’s stomach swooped in dread. 

“She’s agreed to offer me my freedom in exchange for helping her catch Diaz, basically.”

“Oliver.” John spoke in a low tone, not quite sure how to break the news to his brother. “Watson, she...she might be compromised, man. We just found out -”

“I know.”

“You  _ know? _ What do you mean, y _ ou know?” _

“I met with her. She explained the situation, with the leak, her offer to Felicity, all of it. She wants me to convince Felicity to help her uncover the mole.”

“Oliver, Felicity’s not gonna -”

“John, what do you think I should have done? I’m not saying we’re just going to trust Watson. But there’s got to be a way to make this work. Don’t you think I have to take the chance?”

John sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I do, Oliver. But Felicity might see things a bit differently. She and Watson, uh...they’re really not on the same page after what went down yesterday. Not as if they were ever on the same page. But do you want me to call her? Do you want me to bring her along, or…?”

Oliver’s silence on the line was profound, as if he had forgotten how to breathe. After a long moment, he let out a long whoosh of air. When he spoke John had to strain to hear the words. “I want to see her, more than anything. But maybe you should come alone tonight.” 

John nodded, though Oliver couldn’t see him. There was a lot going on between his two best friends, and it was probably best if they each had a little time to get used to the idea of Oliver’s sudden release before meeting face to face. “Okay, yeah. Look, sit tight. I’ll be there in three hours, then we can figure out where to go from there. And Oliver.” He smiled for the first time. “It’s good to have you back.”

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Felicity felt optimistic, for once. She’d had a good night’s sleep, and yesterday they’d made enough progress through their data haul that last night she’d ordered Indian food and binged the first three episodes of  _ Star Trek: The Next Generation _ with William. 

She’d woken up this morning and even the early hour, and the lack of windows in their subterranean apartment, and the fact that she hadn’t had anything resembling a day off in weeks hadn’t dampened her enthusiasm to continue their work. 

She took a sip of the coffee Kyle had brought her, and the knowledge that he had done so to stave off her predictable pre-coffee combativeness didn’t even make her grumble. He was sitting across the desk from her on his laptop, and they were alone in her small office, the only two hackers in their organization driven enough to attack the cache of data at 7:00 AM on a Saturday. Except for the stray comment here or question there, they worked silently among a hum of computers and the lull of typing.  

Felicity’s phone buzzed, vibrating unexpectedly against her desk and cutting loudly into the silence. Surprised, she knocked her keyboard dangerously against her coffee mug. 

She glanced at the caller ID and felt an unwelcome surge of wariness when she saw John’s name. Taking a deep breath, she connected the call over her speaker so that she wouldn’t have to catch Kyle up midway through what would probably turn out to be another important conversation.

“Hey, John.” She injected a little extra brightness in her tone, to cover her unwanted feelings of regret. “What’s up?”

“Felicity.” John sounded extremely hesitant, and Felicity’s heart sank. So much for optimism. 

_ What now?, _ she almost said. Instead, she waited. 

“I have some...news. Some good news, okay? But maybe you better sit down.”

“John?” She was already sitting down, so she placed her palms flat on the desk in front of her, focusing her eyes on the backs of her hands. “What’s going on? You’re kinda freaking me out.” 

John didn’t reply right away, but Felicity thought she heard muffled discussion on the other end of the line.

“John, are you there? Are you with Lyla? Are you okay?” Without realizing it she had stood up, and she leaned heavily into her hands. 

“Yeah, yeah, Felicity I’m here, I’m okay. I just -”

“Felicity.”

And her heart stopped. Because only one person had ever said her name like that. Only one person ever could. Her voice cracked on his name. “Ol-Oliver?”

His next words rushed out, as if he were racing the tide of emotion she could hear threatening to break in his voice. “Yeah Felicity it’s me.” He stopped, took a deep breath. “It’s me, I’m here.”

There wasn’t enough air; Felicity’s gasping, shuddering breath wasn’t giving her the oxygen she needed and she began to see spots. “Oliver.” 

“Felicity, are you sitting? Breathe.” Dig’s voice was strong and calming, in direct contrast to every emotion that was rushing through her body.

Kyle appeared at her side with a cup of water, and Felicity was momentarily surprised by his existence. But then her brain snapped awake to her surroundings, and she remembered where she was, and why. Her voice was a bit steadier when she spoke again. “Oliver, Dig. What’s going on? Are you both okay?”

“Yeah, Felicity.” Oliver spoke in a low tone, as if she were the only one who could hear him. “Baby….”

Dig cut in. “Felicity, are you at the base?”

Felicity was half glad for John’s interruption. She had a lot she needed to say to Oliver, but the sound of his voice on the phone was threatening to make her forget everything except how much she missed him, how much she needed, suddenly, to touch him. She took a steadying breath. “Yeah, yes. Of course. Why?”

“As you might have guessed, I have Oliver here with me -”

“And where is ‘here,’ exactly?” She was beginning to pull herself together. 

“Star City. At...at my house.”

Felicity gasped. “How?”

“Well, that’s part of the story we have to tell you. But sit tight, okay? Everything’s good. We’re gonna come to you.”

“Today? Now? Right now?”

“Yeah.” John was silent, giving her a chance to protest if she needed to. Oliver hadn’t made a sound in a few minutes, and Felicity wasn’t sure if he was still on the line. “That okay?”

Felicity blinked rapidly, trying to stop the tears of overwhelming emotion that were suddenly threatening to fall. “Yeah.” Her voice was tight with a suppressed sob. “Yep, come on over. I’ll see you soon.”

Felicity disconnected the line, and it took several full minutes of conscious breathing before she had her emotions under control enough to notice that Kyle was still there, watching her. She looked up, knowing he had seen her cry. She didn’t know what to say.

He was looking at her with an inscrutable expression, and it occurred to Felicity that he was about to meet Oliver, the Green Arrow, for the first time. Her mind flashed to Barry,  _ (and to Oliver flatlining and Barry rescuing him and Oliver’s subsequent outburst, _ her memory flashed unhelpfully _ ), _ and she wondered if Kyle’s calm expression was covering his own excited anticipation at the prospect of finally meeting his hero. 

But when he spoke, his words were not what she expected. “Felicity. Are you okay?”

She ran her hands over her face to wipe away the evidence of tears, sniffing surreptitiously as she did so. She cleared her throat and tried for nonchalance. “Yeah. I’m good.”

He continued to watch her and she squirmed a little under his intense gaze, looking anywhere but at him. “It’s just, I know things between you and Oliver are maybe a little...strained….”

Her eyes snapped to his.

“...after everything that happened between you, I mean.”

Felicity felt her heart speed up, because in the weeks she had been among the Outlaws, among people who knew exactly who she was, people who had a lot more insight into her connection to the Green Arrow than almost anyone else, no one had ever dared go  _ there _ . She felt a flash of anger at Kyle’s audacity, his presumption to know anything about the oceans that lay between her and Oliver. Their relationship, their connection, was private and unfathomable to anyone else, and even when John Diggle - the one person who had enough insight to do so - ventured to speak about it, he still stuck to the very edges, knowing that the thing between Oliver and Felicity belonged to them and them alone. Yet here was this man she’d only known a few weeks pretending to  _ know _ .

Abruptly she turned away, needing space to get her racing thoughts in order. Oliver was coming. Here. And as much as she tried to hold on to a sense of caution, the uncontrollable beating of her heart felt a lot like excitement, and relief, and hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me fandom for I have Songficced. I didn’t set out to do so, Songfic just happens to me and I don’t know why. I am a good person, I swear! ^_^
> 
> Honestly, I came up with this whole plot, and the outline and all the scenes without thinking of this song. It was only when I went searching for a title that I thought of it, and the lyrics are an absolutely perfect fit. (The relevance will become more clear as the story unfolds). With credit to Sting and Gordon Sumner:
> 
> Under the ruins of a walled city  
> Crumbling towers in beams of yellow light.  
> No flags of truce, no cries of pity;  
> The siege guns had been pounding through the night.
> 
> It took a day to build the city.  
> We walked through its streets in the afternoon.  
> As I returned across the fields I'd known,  
> I recognized the walls that I once made.  
> Had to stop in my tracks for fear of walking on the mines I'd laid.
> 
> And if I've built this fortress around your heart,  
> Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire,  
> Then let me build a bridge, for I cannot fill the chasm,  
> And let me set the battlements on fire.
> 
> Then I went off the fight some battle that I'd invented inside my head.  
> Away so long for years and years,  
> You probably thought or even wished that I was dead.  
> While the armies are all sleeping beneath the tattered flag we'd made.  
> I had to stop in my tracks for fear of walking on the mines I'd laid.
> 
> And if I've built this fortress around your heart,  
> Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire,  
> Then let me build a bridge, for I cannot fill the chasm,  
> And let me set the battlements on fire.
> 
> This prison has now become your home,  
> A sentence you seem prepared to pay.  
> It took a day to build the city.  
> We walked through its streets in the afternoon.  
> As I returned across the lands I'd known,  
> I recognized the fields where I once played.  
> Had to stop in my tracks for fear of walking on the mines I'd laid.
> 
> And if I've built this fortress around your heart,  
> Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire,  
> Then let me build a bridge, for I cannot fill the chasm,  
> And let me set the battlements on fire.


End file.
